& 


Prof.    G.    W.    Bunnell 


LETTERS 


OF 


MRS.    ADAMS 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


'LETTERS' 

OF 

MRS.   ADAMS, 

•  * 

THE     WIFE     OF     JOHN    ADAMS. 

WITH   AN 

*/* 

INTRODUCTORY    MEMOIR 

au 

BY  HER  GRANDSON, 

CHARLES  FRANCIS  ADAMS. 

VOLUME  I. 
SECOND    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

CHARLES  C.  LITTLE  AND  JAMES  BROWN. 

M  DCCC  XL. 


Z4- 

13 


U/. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1840,  by 

CHARLES  FRANCIS  ADAMS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of 
Massachusetts. 


BOSTON: 
PRINTED    BY    FREEMAN    AND    BOLLES, 

WASHINGTON    STREET. 


PREFACE 


TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


THE  extremely  favorable  reception  which  the 
Letters  of  Mrs.  Adams  have  thus  far  met  with 
from  the  American  public,  encourages  the  Editor 
to  attempt  the  present  republication  of  them.  The 
opportunity  has  been  taken  to  revise  the  text  by 
a  fresh  comparison  with  the  original  manuscripts, 
and  carefully  to  correct  that  portion  of  the  wQrk 
which  was  supplied  by  himself.  Objections  to 
the  somewhat  unwieldy  size  of  the  former  volume 
have  been  removed  by  dividing  the  matter  which 
it  contained  into  two.  In  order  to  do  this,  how 
ever,  it  was  found  necessary  to  add  a  few  letters. 
These,  together  with  a  commentary  upon  them 
in  the  memoir,  originally  prepared  for  the  first 

616034 


VI  PREFACE. 


edition,  and  finally  excluded  from  it  only  because 
of  the  unexpectedly  large  space  which  the  letters 
of  earlier  date  were  found  to  occupy,  are  now 
inserted.  In  all  other  respects  the  two  editions 
do  not  differ. 
Boston,  December,  1840. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 
MEMOIR       xiii 

1761. 

To  Mrs.  H.  Lincoln.  5  October.  Accepts  the  offer  to 
correspond  with  her..  Views  of  life  3 

1764. 

To  John  Adams.  10  April.  Pleasure  in  writing.  Ques 
tions  about  his  health 7 

To  the  same.  19-20  April.  Wishes  to  know  her  faults. 
Dreams 8 

1767. 

To  the  same.  14  September.  Family  well.  At  her  fa 
ther's  12 

1774. 

To  the  same.  19  August.  Time  tedious  in  his  absence. 
Anxiety  for  the  future.  Reading  Rollin 13 

To  the  same.  2  September.  Popular  excitement.  Seiz 
ure  of  the  warrants  for  summoning  juries.  Drought  .  15 

To  the  same.  14-16  September.  Warlike  preparations 
of  Governor  Gage.  The  gunpowder  in  Braintree  se 
cured  by  the  people.  They  force  the  Sheriff  to  surren 
der  warrants  and  burn  them.  Dismay  of  the  Tories. 
At  Colonel  Quincy's.  Students  at  law  in  her  house. 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Page 

Mr.    Thaxter  teaches  her   son.     Morals  of  children. 

Popular  feeling  in  Taunton 18 

To  the  same.  22  September.  Visit  to  Boston.  State  of 

the  town.  Negro  conspiracy 23 

To  the  same.  1C  October.  Desires  his  return.  Fears 

for  the  future.     Necessity  of  economy.     General  Gage. 

Departure  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr. ,  for  England      ...     25 

1775. 

To  the  same.  4  May.  Affairs  at  home.  Hutchinson's 
letters.  Mr.  Quincy 's  death 29 

To  the  same.  7  May.  Cheering  news  from  North  Caro 
lina.  Distress  of  Boston 31 

To  the  same.  24  May.  Alarm  in  Braintree.  British 
foraging  party.  Arrival  of  Dr.  Franklin  from  Europe. 
Fire  in  Boston.  State  of  her  house 32 

To  the  same.  15  June.  Arrival  of  British  recruits.  Ap 
prehensions.  Mr.  Bowdoin.  Importance  of  soldiers. 
Scarcity  of  pins ' 35 

To  the  same.  18-  20  June.  Action  on  Bunker's  Hill. 
Death  of  Dr.  Warren 39 

To  the  same.  22  June.  Answers  inquiries.  Dr.  Tufts. 
Preparations  for  removal 41 

To  the  same.  25  June.  Particulars  of  the  action  on 
Bunker's  Hill.  Divine  service.  Preacher  not  ardent 
enough.  Condition  of  Boston.  Effect  of  reports  .  .  43 

To  the  same.  5  July.  Pleasure  of  telling  news.  State 
of  Boston.  Not  afraid.  Scarcity  of  grain  .  .  .  .  47 

To  the  same.  16  July.  Appointment  of  Washington 
and  Lee  satisfactory.  First  impressions  upon  seeing 
them.  State  of  Boston.  British  attacked  upon  Long 
Island.  Braintree  elects  a  representative.  Scarcity  of 
foreign  goods 50 

To  the  same.  25  July.  Boston  lighthouse  burnt  by  a  party 
of  Americans.  Restrictions  on  the  inhabitants  of  Boston. 
Generals  Burgoyne  and  Clinton.  Visit  to  Dedham  .  57 


CONTENTS.  IX 

Page 

To  the  same.  31  July -2  August.  Inveighs  against 
Britain.  Treatment  of  Dr.  Warren's  remains.  British 
carpenters  attacked  at  the  lighthouse.  Four  prisoners 
with  whom  she  converses G3 

To  the  same.  1  October.  Death  of  her  mother.  In 
great  distress.  Prevalence  of  disease G7 

To  the  same.  21  October.  Sickness  abated.  State  of 
Boston.  Dr.  Church.  Her  father's  grief.  Complains 
of  her  long  separation  from  her  husband.  Want  of 
needles  and  cloth G9 

To  the  same.  22  October.  Describes  her  mother's  death. 
Effect  upon  herself.  British  demand  upon  Falmouth. 
Tory  satires  in  Boston 73 

To  the  same.  5  November.  Dines  in  company  with 
Dr.  Franklin.  Reflections  upon  Dr.  Church.  Hopes 
for  her  husband's  return 76 

To  the  same.  12  November.  Renounces  attachment  to 
Britain.  Skirmish  at  Lechmere's  Point.  Her  own  mel 
ancholy  78 

To  the  same.  27  November.  Regrets  his  prolonged 
stay.  Reflections  upon  government 80 

To  the  same.  10  December.  Visits  the  American  camp. 
Generals  Lee  and  Sullivan.  Suggests  measures.  Scar 
city  of  foreign  goods.  Congress  too  timid  ....  83 

1776. 

To  the  same.  2- 9  March.  Ridiculous  rumor.  Desires 
independence  to  be  declared.  Roar  of  cannon  from 
Dorchester  Heights.  Disappointment  at  the  result. 
Movements  in  Congress g7 

To  the  same.  7-11  April.  British  troops  removed. 
Funeral  of  Dr.  Warren.  Engaged  in  farming.  Cap 
ture  of  a  British  vessel.  News 93 

To  the  same.  7 -9  May.  Neglect  of  preparations  for 
defence.  Necessity  for  government.  More  captures  9G 

To  the  same.     17  June.     At  Plymouth.     Goes  on  board 


X  CONTENTS. 

Page 
the   brig   Defence.     Account   of  the   capture    of   two 

transports.     Confidence  in  the  future 100 

To  the  same.  29  September.  Anxious  for  news.  High 
prices  paid  for  drafted  men.  Great  number  in  the 
public  service,  and  in  privateers.  Willing  to  reap  the 
harvests 105 

1777. 

To  the  same.  30-31  July.  Bad  news  from  the  north. 
Distrust  of  foreign  officers.  Female  mob  in  Boston  .  107 

To  the  same.  5  August.  Alarm  in  Boston.  Proves 
unfounded.  Mourns  her  separation  from  him  .  .  .  110 

To  the  same.  17  September.  Letter  from  Mr.  Lovell. 
Horrible  apprehensions .  113 

To  the  same.  25  October.  General  Burgoyne's  sur 
render.  Generous  terms  offered  to  him.  Reflections 
upon  her  wedding  anniversary 114 

1778. 

To  the  same.  8  March.  Rumor  of  Dr.  Franklin's  as 
sassination.  Apprehensions  at  her  husband's  departure 
for  Europe.  Directions  to  her  son 116 

To  the  same.  18  May.  Anxious  for  intelligence  of  him. 
Attachment  to  her  native  country.  Opposite  conduct  of 
France  and  of  Great  Britain.  Depreciated  currency  .  119 

To  John  Quincy  Adams.     June.     Advice 122 

To  John  Adams.  30  June.  Receipt  of  his  first  letter 
from  abroad.  Begs  for  more.  Defective  female  edu 
cation  in  America.  Shebbeare's  Letters 125 

To  the  same.  October.  Officers  of  the  French  fleet. 
Visits  the  ship  of  Count  d'Estaing.  Is  displeased  with 
the  brevity  of  her  husband's  letters.  Paper  money  .  129 

To  the  same.  27  December.  Her  lonely  situation  this 
winter.  Effect  of  a  Scotch  song 132 

1779. 

To  the  same.    20  March  -  23  April.     Letters  intercepted. 


CONTENTS.  XI 

Page 

Paper  money.     Public  news.     Capture  of  British  ves 
sels  134 

To  the  same.  8  June.  Depreciated  currency.  Death 
of  Dr.  Winthrop 138 

To  the  same.  14  November.  Her  house  looks  discon 
solate  at  his  departure 142 

1780. 

To  John  Quincy  Adams.  12  January.  Advice.  Advan 
tages  of  travelling.  Great  necessities  call  out  great 
virtues 143 

To  the  same.  20  March.  Religion  the  only  foundation 
of  virtue.  Self-knowledge  recommended,  and  self- 
government  146 

To  John  Adams.  1C  July.  Receipt  of  letters.  Sacri 
fices  to  support  the  war 151 

To  the  same.  15  October.  Arnold's  plot.  Prices  cur 
rent  154 

1781. 

To  the  same.     28  January.     Repeal  of  the  tender  law. 

Heavy  taxes.  British  employ  Arnold 157 

To  the  same.  25  May.  Beauty  of  the  season.  Hopes 

he  may   make  a  treaty  with  Holland.     The  currency 

has  lost  all  value 160 

To  the  same.  9  December.  Marquis  de  la  Fayette.  The 

surrender  of  Cornwallis.     Anxiety  about  the  return  of 

her  second  son.     Has  the  heart-ache  for  want  of  letters. 

Requests  assistance  for  townsmen   in  British  prisons. 

Hopes  for  his  return.     Affairs  of  business 163 

1762. 

To  the  same.  25  October.  Eighteenth  anniversary  of 
her  wedding.  Reflections.  Return  of  the  prisoners  .  168 

To  the  same.  13-25  November.  Regrets  his  long  ab 
sence.  Her  confidence  in  him 172 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

Page 

To  the  same.  23  December.  Expresses  her  feelings. 
Willing  to  sacrifice  them  for  the  common  good  .  .  .  175 

1783. 

To  the  same.  28-29  April.  Joy  at  the  news  of  peace. 
Amused  by  his  journal.  Movement  in  Congress. 
Doubts  about  accepting  his  invitation  to  join  him  in 
Europe 177 

To  the  same.  20  June.  Uncertainty  as  to  his  course. 
Doubtful  state  of  the  country.  Would  prefer  his  return 
to  going  to  join  him 182 

To  the  same.  19  November.  Decides  not  to  cross  the 
ocean  this  winter.  Anxious  about  his  health  .  .  .  186 

To  John  Quincy  Adams.  20  November.  Rejoiced  to 
hear  at  last  from  him.  Advice 188 

To  John  Adams.  18  December.  Attends  divine  service 
in  Boston.  Feelings  occasioned  by  the  Thanksgiving 
sermon  of  Dr.  Clarke.  Arrival  of,  and  interview  with, 
Mr.  Dana.  Answers  her  husband's  pressing  invitation 
to  join  him 192 

To  John  Quincy  Adams.  26  December.  Comparison  of 
Russia  and  America.  Causes  of  the  rise  and  fall  of 
nations.  Advice  .  196 


MEMOIR. 


THE  memorials  of  that  generation,  by  whose 
efforts  the  independence  of  the  United  States 
was  achieved,  are  in  great  abundance.  There 
is  hardly  an  event  of  importance,  from  the  year 
1765  to  the  date  of  the  definitive  treaty  of  peace 
with  Great  Britain,  in  September,  1783,  which 
has  not  been  recorded,  either  by  the  industry 
of  actors  upon  the  scene,  or  by  the  indefatiga 
ble  activity  of  a  succeeding  class  of  students. 
These  persons  have  devoted  themselves,  with  a 
highly  commendable  zeal,  to  the  investigation 
of  all  particulars,  even  the  most  minute,  that 
relate  to  this  interesting  period.  The  individu 
als,  called  to  act  most  conspicuously  in  the  Re 
volution,  have  many  of  them  left  voluminous 
collections  of  papers,  which,  as  time  passes,  find 
their  way  to  the  light  by  publication,  and  fur 
nish  important  illustrations  of  the  feelings  and 
motives  under  which  the  contest  was  carried 
on.  The  actors  are  thus  made  to  stand  in  bold 


XIV  MEMOIR. 

relief  before  us.  We  not  only  see  the  public 
record,  but  the  private  commentary  also ;  and 
these,  taken  in  connexion  with  the  contempo 
raneous  histories,  all  of  which,  however  defec 
tive  in  philosophical  analysis,  are  invaluable 
depositories  of  facts  related  by  living  witnesses, 
will  serve  to  transmit  to  posterity  the  details  for 
a  narration  in  as  complete  a  form  as  will  in  all 
probability  ever  be  attained  by  the  imperfect 
faculties  of  man. 

Admitting  these  observations  to  be  true,  there 
is,  nevertheless,  a  distinction  to  be  drawn  be 
tween  the  materials  for  a  history  of  action  and 
those  for  one  of  feeling  :  between  the  conduct  of 
men  aiming  at  distinction  among  their  fellow- 
beings,  and  the  private,  familiar  sentiments,  that 
run  into  the  texture  of  the  social  system,  with 
out  remark  or  the  hope  of  observation.  Here  it 
is,  that  something  like  a  void  in  our  annals  ap 
pears  still  to  exist.  Our  history  is  for  the  most 
part  wrapped  up  in  the  forms  of  office.  The 
great  men  of  the  Revolution,  in  the  eyes  of 
posterity,  are.  many  of  them,  like  heroes  of  a 
mythological  age.  They  are  seen,  for  the  most 
part,  when  conscious  that  they  are  acting  upon 
a  theatre,  where  individual  sentiment  must  be 
sometimes  disguised,  and  often  sacrificed,  for 
the  public  good.  Statesmen  and  generals  rarely 
say  all  they  think  or  feel.  The  consequence  is, 


MEMOIR.  XV 


that,  in  the  papers  which  come  from  them,  they 
are  made  to  assume  a  uniform  of  grave  hue, 
which,  though  it  doubtless  exalts  the  opinion 
entertained  of  their  perfections,  somewhat  di 
minishes  the  interest  with  which  later  genera 
tions  study  their  character.  Students  of  human 
nature  seek  for  examples  of  man  under  cir 
cumstances  of  difficulty  and  trial;  man  as 
he  is,  not  as  he  would  appear;  but  there  are 
many  reasons  why  they  are  often  baffled  in  the 
search.  We  look  for  the  workings  of  the  heart, 
when  those  of  the  head  alone  are  presented  to 
us.  We  watch  the  emotions  of  the  spirit,  and 
yet  find  clear  traces  only  of  the  reasoning  of  the 
intellect.  The  solitary  meditation,  the  confi 
dential  whisper  to  a  friend,  never  meant  to 
reach  the  ear  of  the  multitude,  the  secret  wishes, 
not  to  be  blazoned  forth  to  catch  applause,  the 
fluctuations  between  fear  and  hope,  that  most 
betray  the  springs  of  action,' — these  are  the 
guides  to  character,  which  most  frequently 
vanish  with  the  moment  that  called  them  forth, 
and  leave  nothing  to  posterity  but  the  coarser 
elements  for  judgment,  that  may  be  found  in 
elaborated  results. 

There  is,  moreover,  another  distinction  to  be 
observed,  which  is  not  infrequently  lost  sight 
of.  It  is  of  great  importance  not  only  to 
understand  the  nature  of  the  superiority  of 


XVI  MEMOIR. 

the  individuals,  who  have  made  themselves 
a  name  above  their  fellow-beings,  but  to  esti 
mate  the  degree  in  which  the  excellence  for 
which  they  were  distinguished  was  shared  by 
those  among  whom  they  lived.  Inattention 
to  this  duty  might  present  Patrick  Henry 
and  James  Otis,  Washington,  Jefferson,  and 
Samuel  Adams,  as  the  causes  of  the  American 
Revolution,  which  they  were  not  There  was 
a  moral  principle  in  the  field,  to  the  power 
of  which  a  great  majority  of  the  whole  popula 
tion  of  the  colonies,  whether  male  or  female, 
old  or  young,  had  been  Jong  and  habitually 
trained  to  do  homage.  The  individuals  named, 
with  the  rest  of  their  celebrated  associates,  who 
best  represented  that  moral  principle  before  the 
world,  were  not  the  originators,  but  the  spokes 
men  of  the  general  opinion,  and  instruments 
for  its  adaptation  to  existing  events.  Whether 
fighting  in  the  field,  or  deliberating  in  the  Sen 
ate,  their  strength  against  Great  Britain  was 
not  that  of  numbers,  nor  of  wealth,  nor  of 
genius ;  but  it  drew  its  nourishment  from  the 
sentiment  that  pervaded  the  dwellings  of  the 
entire  population. 

How  much  this  home  sentiment  did  then,  and 
does  ever,  depend  upon  the  character  of  the 
female  portion  of  the  people,  will  be  too  readily 
understood  by  all,  to  require  explanation.  The 


MEMOIR.  XV11 

domestic  hearth  is  the  first  of  schools,  and  the 
best  of  lecture-rooms ;  for  there  the  heart  will 
cooperate  with  the  mind,  the  affections  with  the 
reasoning  power.  And  this  is  the  scene  for  the 
almost  exclusive  sway  of  the  weaker  sex.  Yet, 
great  as  the  influence  thus  exercised  undoubt 
edly  is,  it  escapes  observation  in  such  a  manner, 
that  history  rarely  takes  much  account  of  it. 
The  maxims  of  religion,  faith,  hope,  and  char 
ity,  are  not  passed  through  the  alembic  of  logi 
cal  proof,  before  they  are  admitted  into  the 
daily  practice  of  women.  They  go  at  once  into 
the  teachings  of  infancy,  and  thus  form  the 
only  high  and  pure  motives  of  which  matured 
manhood  can,  in  its  subsequent  action,  ever 
boast.  Neither,  when  the  stamp  of  duty  is  to 
be  struck  in  the  young  mind,  is  there  commonly 
so  much  of  alloy  in  the  female  heart  as  with 
men,  with  which  the  genuine  metal  may  be 
fused,  and  the  face  of  the  coin  made  dim. 
There  is  not  so  much  room  for  the  doctrines  of 
expediency,  and  the  promptings  of  private  in 
terest,  to  compromise  the  force  of  public  exam 
ple.  In  every  instance  of  domestic  convulsions, 
and  when  the  pruning-hook  is  deserted  for  the 
sword  and  musket,  the  sacrifice  of  feelings 
made  by  the  female  sex  is  unmixed  with  a 
hope  of  worldly  compensation.  With  them 
there  is  no  ambition  to  gratify,  no  fame  to  be 
VOL.  i.  E 


XV111  MEMOIR. 

gained  by  the  simply  negative  virtue  of  priva 
tions  suffered  in  silence.  There  is  no  action  to 
drown  in  its  noise  and  bustle  a  full  sense  of  the 
pain  that  must  inevitably  attend  it.  The  lot  of 
woman,  in  times  of  trouble,  is  to  be  a  passive 
spectator  of  events,  which  she  can  scarcely 
hope  to  make  subservient  to  her  own  fame,  or 
to  control. 

If  it  were  possible  to  get  at  the  expression  of 
feelings  by  women  in  the  heart  of  a  community, 
at  a  moment  of  extraordinary  trial,  recorded  in 
a  shape  evidently  designed  to  be  secret  and 
confidential,  this  would  seem  to  present  the 
surest  and  most  unfailing  index  to  its  general 
•character.  Hitherto  we  have  not  gathered 
much  of  this  material  in  the  United  States. 
The  dispersion  of  families,  so  common  in  Amer 
ica,  the  consequent  destruction  of  private  papers, 
the  defective  nature  of  female  education  before 
the  Revolution,  the  difficulty  and  danger  of 
free  communication,  and  the  engrossing  charac 
ter,  to  the  men,  of  public,  and  to  the  women,  of 
domestic  cares,  have  all  contributed  to  cut  short, 
if  not  completely  to  destroy,  the  sources  of  in 
formation.  It  is  truly  remarked,  in  the  present 
volume,  that  "  instances  of  patience,  persever 
ance,  fortitude,  magnanimity,  courage,  human 
ity,  and  tenderness,  which  would  have  graced 
the  Roman  character,  were  known  only  to  those 


MEMOIR.  XIX 

who  were  themselves  the  actors,  and  whose 
modesty  could  not  suffer  them  to  blazon  abroad 
their  own  fame."1  The  heroism  of  the  females 
of  the  Revolution  has  gone  from  memory  with 
the  generation  that  witnessed  it,  and  nothing, 
absolutely  nothing,  remains  upon  the  ear  of  the 
young  of  the  present  day.  but  the  faint  echo  of 
an  expiring  general  tradition.  Neither  is  there 
much  remembrance  of  the  domestic  manners  of 
the  last  century,  when,  with  more  of  admitted 
distinctions  than  at  present,  there  was  more  of 
general  equality  ;  nor  of  the  state  of  social  feel 
ing,  or  of  that  simplicity  of  intercourse,  which, 
in  colonial  times,  constituted  in  New  England 
as  near  an  approach  to  the  successful  exempli 
fication  of  the  democratic  theory,  as  the  irregu 
larity  in  the  natural  gifts  of  men  will,  in  all 
probability,  evor  practically  allow. 

It  is  the  purpose  of  the  present  volume  to 
contribute  something  to  the  supply  of  this  de 
ficiency,  by  giving  to  tradition  a  form  partially 
palpable.  The  present  is  believed  to  be  the 
first  attempt,  in  the  United  States,  to  lay  before 
the  public  a  series  of  private  letters,  written 
without  the  remotest  idea  of  publication,  by  a 
woman,  to  her  husband,  and  others  of  her  near 
est  and  dearest  relations.  Their  greatest  value 

1  Letter,  4  March,  1786. 


XX  MEMOIR. 

consists  in  the  fact,  susceptible  of  no  miscon 
ception,  that  they  furnish  an  exact  transcript  of 
the  feelings  of  the  writer,  in  times  of  no  ordi 
nary  trial.  Independently  of  this,  the  variety 
of  scenes  in  which  she  wrote,  and  the  opportu 
nities  furnished  for  observation  in  the  situations 
in  which  she  was  placed  by  the  elevation  of  her 
husband  to  high  official  positions  in  the  coun 
try,  may  contribute  to  sustain  the  interest  with 
which  they  will  be  read.  The  undertaking  is, 
nevertheless,  too  novel  not  to  inspire  the  Editor 
with  some  doubt  of  its  success,  particularly  as 
it  brings  forward  to  public  notice  a  person  who 
has  now  been  long  removed  from  the  scene  of 
action,  and  of  whom,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
suppose,  the  present  generation  of  readers  have 
neither  personal  knowledge  nor  recollection. 
For  the  sake  of  facilitating  their  progress,  and 
explaining  the  allusions  to  persons  and  objects 
very  frequently  occurring,  it  may  not  be  deemed 
improper  here  to  premise  some  account  of  her 
life. 

There  were  few  persons  of  her  day  and  gen 
eration,  who  derived  their  origin,  or  imbibed 
their  character,  more  exclusively  from  the  gen 
uine  stock  of  the  Massachusetts  Puritan  settlers, 
than  Abigail  Smith.  Her  father,  the  Reverend 
William  Smith,  was  the  settled  minister  of  the 
Congregational  Church  at  Weymouth,  for  more 


MEMOIR.  XXI 

than  forty  years,  and  until  his  death.  Her 
mother,  Elizabeth  Quincy,  was  the  grand 
daughter  of  the  Reverend  John  Norton,  long 
the  pastor  of  a  church  of  the  same  denomina 
tion  in  the  neighbouring  town  of  Hingham,  and 
the  nephew  of  John  Norton,  well  known  in  the 
annals  of  the  colony.1  Her  maternal  grand 
father,  John  Quincy,  was  the  grandson  of 
Thomas  Shepard,  minister  of  Charlestown.  dis 
tinguished  in  his  day,  and  the  son  of  the  more 
distinguished  Thomas  Shepard  of  Cambridge, 
whose  name  still  lives  in  one  of  the  churches  of 
that  town.  These  are  persons  whose  merits 
may  be  found  fully  recorded  in  the  pages  of 
Mather  and  of  Neal.  They  were  among  the 
most  noted  of  the  most  reputed  class  of  their 
day.  In  a  colony,  founded  so  exclusively  upon 
motives  of  religious  zeal  as  Massachusetts  was, 
it  necessarily  followed,  that  the  ordinary  dis 
tinctions  of  society  were  in  a  great  degree  sub 
verted,  and  that  the  leaders  of  the  church, 
though  without  worldly  possessions  to  boast  of, 
were  the  most  in  honor  everywhere.  Educa 
tion  was  promoted  only  as  it  was  subsidiary  to 
the  great  end  of  studying  or  expounding  the 
Scriptures  ;  and  whatever  of  advance  was  made 
in  the  intellectual  pursuits  of  society,  was  rather 

1  Hutchinson,  Vol.  I.  pp.  220,  et  seq. 


XX11  MEMOIR. 

the  incidental  than  the  direct  result  of  studies 
necessary  to  fit  men  for  a  holy  calling.  Hence 
it  was,  that  the  higher  departments  of  know 
ledge  were  entered  almost  exclusively  by  the 
clergy.  Classical  learning  was  a  natural,  though 
indirect  consequence  of  the  acquisition  of  those 
languages,  in  which  the  New  Testament  and 
the  Fathers  were  to  be  studied ;  and  dialectics 
formed  the  armour,  of  which  men  were  com 
pelled  to  learn  the  use,  as  a  preparation  for  the 
wars  of  religious  controversy.  The  mastery  of 
these  gave  power  and  authority  to  their  posses 
sors,  who,  by  a  very  natural  transition,  passed 
from  being  the  guides  of  religious  faith  to  their 
fellow  men,  to  be  guardians  of  their  educa 
tion.  To  them,  as  the  fountains  of  knowledge, 
and  possessing  the  gifts  most  prized  in  the  com 
munity,  all  other  ranks  in  society  cheerfully 
gave  place.  If  a  festive  entertainment  was 
meditated,  the  minister  was  sure  to  be  first  on 
the  list  of  those  to  be  invited.  If  any  assembly 
of  citizens  was  held,  he  must  be  there  to  open 
the  business  with  prayer.  If  a  political  measure 
was  in  agitation,  he  was  among  the  first  whose 
opinion  was  to  be  consulted.  Even  the  civil 
rights  of  the  other  citizens  for  a  long  time  de 
pended,  in  some  degree,  upon  his  good-  word; 
and,  after  this  rigid  rule  was  laid  aside,  he  yet 
continued,  in  the  absence  of  technical  law  and 


MEMOIR.  XX111 

lawyers,  to  be  the  arbiter  and  the  judge  in  the 
differences  between  his  fellow  men.  He  was 
not  infrequently  the  family  physician.  The 
great  object  of  instruction  being  religious,  the 
care  of  the  young  was  also  in  his  hands.  The 
records  of  Harvard  University,  the  child  and 
darling  of  Puritan  affections,  show  that  of  all 
the  presiding  officers,  during  the  century  and  a 
half  of  colonial  days,  but  two  were  laymen,  and 
not  ministers  of  the  prevailing  denomination ; 
and  that  of  all,  who  in  the  early  times,  availed 
themselves  of  such  advantages  as  this  institu 
tion  could  then  offer,  nearly  half  the  number 
did  so  for  the  sake  of  devoting  themselves  to 
the  service  of  the  gospel. 

But  the  prevailing  notion  of  the  purpose  of 
education  was  attended  with  one  remarkable 
consequence.  The  cultivation  of  the  female 
mind  was  regarded  with  utter  indifference.  It 
is  not  impossible,  that  the  early  example  of  Mrs. 
Hutchinson,  and  the  difficulties  in  which  the 
public  exercise  of  her  gifts  involved  the  colony, 
had  established  in  the  public  mind  a  conviction 
of  the  danger  that  may  attend  the  meddling  of 
women  with  abstruse  points  of  doctrine;  and 
these,  however  they  might  confound  the  strong 
est  intellect,  were,  nevertheless,  the  favorite 
topics  of  thought  and  discussion  in  that  genera 
tion.  Waving  a  decision  upon  this,  it  may  very 


XXIV  MEMOIR. 

safely  be  assumed,  not  only  that  there  was  very 
little  attention  given  to  the  education  of  women, 
but  that,  as  Mrs.  Adams,  in  one  of  her  letters,1 
says,  "It  was  fashionable  to  ridicule  female 
learning."  The  only  chance  for  much  intellect 
ual  improvement  in  the  female  sex  was,  there 
fore,  to  be  found  in  the  families  of  that,  which 
was  the  educated  class,  and  in  occasional  inter 
course  with  the  learned  of  their  day.  What 
ever  of  useful  instruction  was  received  in  the 
practical  conduct  of  life,  came  from  maternal 
lips  ;  and  what  of  further  mental  developement, 
depended  more  upon  the  eagerness  with  which 
the  casual  teachings  of  daily  conversation  were 
treasured  up,  than  upon  any  labor  expended 
purposely  to  promote  it. 

Abigail  Smith  was  the  second  of  three  daugh 
ters.  Her  father,  as  has  been  already  mention 
ed,  was  the  minister  of  a  small  Congregational 
Church  in  the  town  of  Weymouth,  during  the 
middle  of  the  last  century.  She  was  born  in 
that  town,  on  the  llih  of  November,  1744,  O.  S. 
In  her  neighbourhood,  there  were  not  many  ad 
vantages  of  instruction  to  be  found ;  and  even 
in  Boston,  the  small  metropolis  nearest  at  hand, 
for  reasons  already  stated,  the  list  of  accom 
plishments  within  the  reach  of  females  was, 
probably,  very  short.  She  did  not  enjoy  an 

1  Vol.  I.  page  128. 


MEMOIR.  XXV 

opportunity  to  acquire  even  such  as  there  might 
have  been,  for  the  delicate  state  of  her  health 
forbade  the  idea  of  sending  her  away  from 
home  to  obtam  them.  In  a  letter,  written  in 
1817,  the  year  before  her  death,  speaking  of  her 
own  deficiencies,  she  says;  "  My  early  educa 
tion  did  not  partake  of  the  abundant  opportuni 
ties  which  the  present  days  offer,  and  which 
even  our  common  country  schools  now  afford. 
/  never  was  sent  to  any  school.  I  was  always 
sick.  Female  education,  in  the  best  families, 
went  no  further  than  writing  and  arithmetic ; 
in  some  few  and  rare  instances,  music  and  danc 
ing."  Hence  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose* 
that  the  knowledge  gained  by  her  was  rather 
the  result  of  the  society  into  which  she  was 
thrown,  than  of  any  elaborate  instruction. 

This  fact,  that  the  author  of  the  letters  in  the 
present  volume  never  went  to  any  school,  is  a 
very  important  one  to  a  proper  estimate  of  her 
character.  For,  whatever  may  be  the  decision 
of  the  long-vexed  question  between  the  advan 
tages  of  public  and  those  of  private  education, 
few  persons  will  deny,  that  they  produce  mark 
ed  differences  in  the  formation  of  character. 
Seclusion  from  companions  of  the  same  age,  at 
any  time  of  life,  is  calculated  to  develope  the 
imaginative  faculty,  at  the  expense  of  the  judg 
ment  ;  but  especially  in  youth,  when  the  most 


XXVI  MEMOIR. 

durable  impressions  are  making.  The  ordina 
ry  consequence,  in  females  of  a  meditative  turn 
of  rnind,  is  the  indulgence  of  romantic  and  ex 
aggerated  sentiments  drawn  from  books,  which, 
if  subjected  to  the  ordinary  routine  of  large 
schools,  are  worn  down  by  the  attrition  of  social 
intercourse.  These  ideas,  formed  in  solitude, 
in  early  life,  often,  though  not  always,  remain 
in  the  rnind,  even  after  the  realities  of  the  world 
surround  those  who  hold  them,  and  counteract 
the  tendency  of  their  conclusions.  They  are 
constantly  visible,  in  the  letters  of  these  volumes, 
even  in  the  midst  of  the  severest  trials.  They 
form  what  may  be  considered  the  romantic  turn 
of  the  author's  mind ;  but,  in  her  case,  they 
were  so  far  modified  by  a  great  admixture  of 
religious  principle  and  by  natural  good  sense, 
as  to  be  of  eminent  service  in  sustaining  her 
through  the  painful  situations  in  which  she 
was  placed,  instead  of  nursing  that  species  of 
sickly  sensibility,  which  too  frequently,  in  sim 
ilar  circumstances,  impairs,  if  it  does  not  de 
stroy,  the  power  of  practical  usefulness. 

At  Mount  Wollaston,  a  part  of  Braintree,  the 
town  next  adjoining  Weymouth,  lived  Colonel 
John  Quincy,  her  grandfather  on  the  mother's 
side,  and  a  gentleman,  who,  for  very  many 
years,  enjoyed,  in  various  official  situations, 
much  of  the  confidence  of  the  Colony.  At  his 


MEMOIR.  XXV11 

house,  and  under  the  instruction  of  his  wife, 
her  grandmother,  she  appears  to  have  imbibed 
most  of  the  lessons  which  made  the  deepest 
impression  upon  her  mind.  Of  this  lady,  the 
daughter  of  the  Reverend  John  Norton,  nothing 
is  now  known,  but  what  the  frequent  and  cheer 
ful  acknowledgment  of  her  merit,  by  her  disci 
ple,  tells  us.  "  I  have  not  forgotten,"  says  the 
latter  to  her  own  daughter,  in  the  year  1795, 
"  the  excellent  lessons  which  I  received  from 
my  grandmother,  at  a  very  early  period  of  life. 
I  frequently  think  they  made  a  more  durable 
impression  upon  my  mind,  than  those  which  I 
received  from  my  own  parents.  Whether  it 
was  owing  to  the  happy  method  of  mixing  in 
struction  and  amusement  together,  or  from  an 
inflexible  adherence  to  certain  principles,  the 
utility  of  which  I  could  not  but  see  and  approve 
when  a  child,  I  know  not ;  but  maturer  years 
have  rendered  them  oracles  of  wisdom  to  me. 
I  love  and  revere  her  memory;  her  lively, 
cheerful  disposition  animated  all  around  her, 
whilst  she  edified  all  by  her  unaffected  piety. 
This  tribute  is  due  to  the  memory  of  those  vir 
tues,  the  sweet  remembrance  of  which  will 
flourish,  though  she  has  long  slept  with  her  an 
cestors."  Again,  in  another  letter  to  the  same 
person,  in  1808,  she  says;  "I  cherish  her  me 
mory  with  holy  veneration,  whose  maxims  I 


XXV111  MEMOIR. 

have  treasured  up,  whose  virtues  live  in  my 
remembrance  ;  happy  if  I  could  say,  they  have 
been  transplanted  into  my  life." 

But,  though  her  early  years  were  spent  in  a 
spot  of  so  great  seclusion  as  her  grandfather's 
house  must  then  have  been,  it  does  not  appear 
that  she  remained  wholly  unacquainted  with 
young  persons  of  her  own  sex  and  age.  She 
had  relations  and  connexions,  both  on  the 
father's  and  the  mother's  side ;  and  with  these 
she  was  upon  as  intimate  terms  as  circum 
stances  would  allow.  The  distance  between 
the  homes  of  the  young  people  was,  however, 
too  great,  and  the  means  of  their  parents  too 
narrow,  to  admit  of  very  frequent  personal  in 
tercourse  ;  the  substitute  for  which  was  a  rapid 
interchange  of  written  communications.  The 
letter- writing  propensity  manifested  itself  early 
in  this  youthful  circle.  A  considerable  number 
of  the  epistles  of  her  correspondents  have  been 
preserved  among  the  papers  of  Mrs.  Adams. 
They  are  deserving  of  notice  only  as  they  fur 
nish  a  general  idea  of  the  tastes  and  pursuits  of 
the  young  women  of  that  day.  Perhaps  the 
most  remarkable  thing  about  them  is  the  evi 
dent  influence  upon  the  writers,  which  the  stu 
dy  of  "  The  Spectator,"  and  of  the  poets,  appears 
to  have  had.  This  is  perceptible  in  the  more 
important  train  of  thought  and  structure  of  Ian- 


MEMOIR.  XXIX 

guage,  as  well  as  in  the  lesser  trifles  of  the  taste 
for  quotation  and  for  fictitious  signatures.  Cal 
liope  and  Myra,  Arpasia  and  Anrelia,  have 
effectually  succeeded  in  disguising  their  true 
names  from  the  eyes  of  younger  generations. 
The  signature  of  Miss  Smith  appears  to  have 
been  Diana,  a  name  which  she  dropped  after 
her  marriage,  without  losing  the  fancy  that 
prompted  to  its  selection.  Her  letters,  during 
the  Revolution,  show  clearly  enough  the  ten 
dency  of  her  own  thoughts  and  feelings  in  the 
substitute,  she  then  adopted,  of  Portia.  Her 
fondness  for  quotations,  the  fashion  of  that  day, 
it  will  be  seen,  was  maintained  through  life. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  species  of  exercise,  in 
early  life,  more  productive  of  results  useful  to 
the  mind,  than  that  of  writing  letters.  Over 
and  above  the  mechanical  facility  of  construct 
ing  sentences,  which  no  teaching  will  afford  so 
well,  the  interest  with  which  the  object  is  com 
monly  pursued,  gives  an  extraordinary  impulse 
to  the  intellect.  This  is  promoted,  in  a  degree 
proportionate  to  the  scarcity  of  temporary  and 
local  subjects  for  discussion.  Where  there  is 
little  gossip,  the  want  of  it  must  be  supplied 
from  books.  The  flowers  of  literature  spring 
up  where  the  weeds  of  scandal  take  no  root. 
The  young  ladies  of  Massachusetts,  in  the  last 
century,  were  certainly  readers,  even  though 


XXX  MEMOIR. 

only  self-taught ;  and  their  taste  was  not  for  the 
feeble  and  nerveless  sentiment,  or  the  frantic 
passion,  which  comes  from  the  novels  and  ro 
mances  in  the  circulating  library  of  our  day, 
but  was  derived  from  the  deepest  wells  of  Eng 
lish  literature.  The  poets  and  moralists  of  the 
mother  country  furnished  to  these  inquiring 
minds  their  ample  stores,  and  they  were  used 
to  an  extent,  which  it  is  at  least  doubtful  if  the 
more  pretending  and  elaborate  instruction  of  the 
present  generation  would  equal. 

Of  Mrs.  Adams's  letters  during  this  period  of 
her  youth,  but  very  few  remain  in  possession  of 
her  descendants.  One  specimen  has  been  acci 
dentally  obtained,  which  makes  the  first  in,  the 
present,  publication.  The  writer  was,  at  the 
date  of  the  letter,  not  quite  seventeen,  and  was 
addressing  a  lady  some  years  older  than  herself. 
This  may  account  for  a  strain  of  gravity  rather 
beyond  her  years  or  ordinary  disposition.  Two 
other  letters,  written  to  Mr.  Adams,  after  she 
was  betrothed,  and  before  she  was  married  to 
him,  have  been  added,  because  they  are  believ 
ed  to  be  more  indicative  of  her  usual  temper  at 
that  age.  These  have  been  admitted  to  a  place 
in  the  selection,  not  so  much  as  claiming  a  par 
ticular  merit,  as  because  they  are  thought  to 
furnish  a  standard  of  her  mind,  and  general 
character,  when  a  girl,  by  which  the  improve- 


MEMOIR.  XXXI 

ment  and  full  developement  of  her  powers  as  a 
woman  may  readily  be  measured. 

The  father  of  Mrs.  Adams  was  a  pious  man, 
with  something  of  that  vein  of  humor,  not  un 
common  among  the  clergy  of  New  England, 
which  ordinarily  found  such  a  field  for  exercise 
as  is  displayed  in  the  pages  of  Cotton  Mather. 
He  was  the  father  of  three  daughters,  all  of  them 
women  of  uncommon  force  of  intellect,  though 
the  fortunes  of  two  of  them  confined  its  influ 
ence  to  a  sphere  much  more  limited  than  that 
which  fell  to  the  lot  of  Mrs.  Adams.  Mary,  the 
eldest,  was  married,  in  1762,  to  Richard  Cranch, 
an  English  emigrant,  who  had  settled  at  Ger- 
mantown,  a  part  of  Braintree,  and  who  subse 
quently  became  a  Judge  of  the  Court  of  Com 
mon  Pleas  in  Massachusetts,  and  died,  highly 
respected,  in  the  early  part  of  the  present  cen 
tury.  The  present  William  Cranch,  of  Wash 
ington,  who  has  presided  so  long,  and  with  so 
much  dignity  and  fidelity,  over  the  Circuit 
Court  of  the  District  of  Columbia,  is  the  son  of 
this  marriage.  Elizabeth,  the  youngest,  was 
twice  married  ;  first,  to  the  Reverend  John 
Shaw,  minister  of  Haverhill.  in  Massachusetts, 
and,  after  his  death,  to  the  Reverend  Mr.  Pea- 
body,  of  Atkinson,  New  Hampshire.  Thus 
much  is  necessary  to  be  stated,  in  order  to  ex 
plain  the  relations,  which  the  parties,  in  many 


XXX11  MEMOIR. 


of  the  letters,  bore  to  each  other.  It  is  an  anec 
dote,  told  of  Mr.  Smith,  that,  upon  the  marriage 
of  his  eldest  daughter,  he  preached  to  his  people 
from  the  text  in  the  forty-second  verse  of  the 
tenth  chapter  of  Luke,  "  And  Mary  hath  chosen 
that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away 
from  her."  Two  years  elapsed,  and  his  second 
daughter,  the  subject  of  this  notice,  was  about 
to  marry  John  Adams,  then  a  lawyer  in  good 
practice,  when  some  disapprobation  of  the 
match  appears  to  have  manifested  itself  among 
a  portion  of  his  parishioners.  The  profession  of 
law  was,  for  a  long  period  in  the  colonial  his 
tory  of  Massachusetts,  unknown ;  and,  after 
circumstances  called  it  forth,  the  prejudices  of 
the  inhabitants,  who  thought  it  a  calling  hardly 
honest,  were  arrayed  against  those  who  adopted 
it.  There  are  many  still  living,  who  can  re 
member  how  strong  they  remained,  even  down 
to  the  time  of  the  adoption  of  the  present  Fede 
ral  Constitution  ;  and  the  records  of  the  General 
Court,  at  its  very  last  session,  of  1840,  will 
show,  that  they  have  not  quite  disappeared  at 
this  day.  Besides  this,  the  family  of  Mr.  Adams, 
the  son  of  a  small  farmer  of  the  middle  class  in 
Brain  tree,  was  thought  scarcely  good  enough 
to  match  with  the  minister's  daughter,  descend 
ed  from  so  many  of  the  shining  lights  of  the 
colony.  It  is  probable,  that  Mr.  Smith  was 


MEMOIR.  xxxiii 

made  aware  of  the  opinions  expressed  among 
his  people,  for  he  is  said,  immediately  after  the 
marriage  took  place,  to  have  replied  to  them  by 
a  sermon,  the  text  of  which,  in  evident  allusion 
to  the  objection  against  lawyers,  was  drawn 
from  Luke  vii.  33;  "For  John  came  neither 
eating  bread  nor  drinking  wine,  and  ye  say,  He 
hath  a  devil"  3 

Mrs.  Adams  was  married  on  the  25th  of  Oc 
tober,  1764,  having  then  nearly  completed  her 
twentieth  year.  The  ten  years  immediately 
following  present  little  that  is  worthy  of  record 
ing.  She  appears  to  have  passed  a  quiet,  and 
apparently  very  happy  life,  having  her  residence 
in  Braintree,  or  in  Boston,  according  as  the 
state  of  her  husband's  health,  then  rather  im 
paired,  or  that  of  his  professional  practice,  made 
the  change  advisable.  Within  this  period  she 
became  the  mother  of  a  daughter,  and  of  three 
sons,  whose  names  will  frequently  appear  in 
her  letters ;  and  her  domestic  cares  were  reliev- 

1  As  this  anecdote  rests  entirely  upon  tradition,  it  has 
been  differently  told;  and  it  is  here  admitted  in  this  form 
rather  as  a  characteristic  feature  of  the  age,  and  of  the 
individual,  than  from  any  positive  reliance  upon  its  accu 
racy.  There  are  yet  transmitted,  among  the  inhabitants 
of  Weymouth  and  Hingham,  many  stories  of  Mr.  Smith's 
application  of  texts,  in  a  similar  manner,  to  the  events  of 
the  Revolution,  which  render  the  truth  of  this  far  from 
improbable. 

VOL.    I.  C 


XXXIV  MEMOIR. 

ed  by  the  presence  of  her  husband,  who  was 
absent  from  home  only  upon  those  occasions, 
when  he,  with  the  other  lawyers  of  his  time, 
was  compelled  to  follow  the  court  in  its  circuits. 
During  these  times,  he  used  to  write  regularly 
to  his  wife,  an  account  of  his  adventures  and  of 
his  professional  success.  These  letters  remain, 
and  furnish  a  curious  record  of  the  manners  and 
customs  of  the  provincial  times.  She  does  not 
appear  to  have  often  replied  to  them.  The  only 
example  is  given  in  the  present  volume,  and 
makes  the  fourth  of  the  selection ;  a  letter,  re 
markable  only  for  the  picture  it  presents  of 
peaceful  domestic  life,  in  contrast  to  the  stormy 
period  immediately  succeeding. 

It  is  said  by  Governor  Hutchinson,  in  the 
third  volume  of  his  History,  that  neither  the 
health  of  Mr.  Adams,  nor  his  business,  admitted 
of  his  constant  application  to  public  affairs  in 
the  manner  that  distinguished  his  kinsman, 
Samuel  Adams,  during  the  years  preceding  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Revolution.  If  the  sum  of 
that  application  is  to  be  measured  by  the  fre 
quency  of  his  appearance  before  the  public  as 
an  actor  in  an  official  character  upon  the  scene, 
the  remark  is  true  ;  for,  up  to  the  year  1774,  he 
had  served  but  once  or  twice  as  a  representa 
tive  in  the  General  Court,  and  in  no  other  situ 
ation.  But  this  would  furnish  a  very  unfair 


MEMOIR.  XXXV 

standard,  by  which  to  try  the  extent  of  his  la 
bors  for  the  public.  Very  often,  as  much  is 
done  by  beforehand  preparing  the  public  mind 
for  action,  as  by  the  conduct  of  that  action  after 
it  has  been  commenced ;  although  the  visible 
amount  of  exertion,  by  which  alone  the  world 
forms  its  judgments,  is  in  the  two  cases  widely 
different.  From  the  time  of  his  marriage,  in 
1764,  perhaps  still  earlier,  when  he,  as  a  young 
lawyer,  in  1761,  took  notes  of  the  argument  in 
the  celebrated  cause  of  the  Writs  of  Assistance, 
there  is  evidence  constantly  presented  of  his 
active  interest  in  the  Revolutionary  struggle. 
There  is  hardly  a  year  in  the  interval  between 
the  earliest  of  these  dates,  and  1774,  that  the 
traces  of  his  hand  are  not  visible  in  the  news 
papers  of  Boston,  elaborately  discussing  the 
momentous  questions,  which  preceded  the  crisis. 
It  was  during  this  period,  that  the  "  Essay  on 
Canon  and  Feudal  Law"  was  written.  A  long 
controversy  with  Major  Brattle,  upon  the  pay 
ment  of  the  judges,  and  the  papers  of  "  Novan- 
glus,"  were  other,  though  by  no  means  all.  the 
results  of  his  labors.  He  drafted  several  of  the 
papers  of  Instructions  to  the  Representatives  to 
the  General  Court,  both  in  Boston  and  in  his 
native  town,  and  also  some  of  the  most  elabo 
rate  legal  portions  of  the  celebrated  controversy 
between  that  body  and  Governor  Hntchinson. 


XXXVI  MEMOIR. 


The  tendency,  which  all  these  papers  show,  to 
seek  for  political  truth  in  its  fundamental  prin 
ciples  and  most  abstract  forms,  whilst  it  takes 
off  much  from  the  interest  with  which  the 
merely  general  reader  would  now  consider 
them,  is  yet  of  historical  importance,  as  estab 
lishing  the  fact,  how  little  of  mere  impulse  there 
was  in  his  mode  of  action  against  the  mother 
country.  They  also  show  the  extent  of  the 
studies  to  which  his  mind  applied  itself,  and  the 
depth  of  the  foundation  laid  by  him  for  his  sub 
sequent  career.  Yet,  during  all  this  time,  his 
professional  labors  were  never  intermitted,  and 
ceased  only  with  the  catastrophe  which  shut  up 
the  courts  of  justice,  and  rendered  exertion  upon 
a  different  theatre  absolutely  necessary  to  the 
maintenance  of  the  fabric  of  society. 

Perhaps  the  preceding  detail  belongs  more 
properly  to  a  memoir  of  Mr.  Adams,  than  to 
that  of  his  wife.  Yet  it  would  be  impossible  to 
furnish  any  accurate  idea  of  her  character, 
without  explaining  the  precise  nature  of  the 
influences  acting  upon  her,  whilst  still  young, 
and  when  that  character  was  taking  its  perma 
nent  form.  There  was  no  one,  who  witnessed 
his  studies  with,  greater  interest,  or  who  sym 
pathized  with  him  in  the  conclusions,  to  which 
his  mind  was  forcing  him,  more  deeply,  than 
Mrs.  Adams.  And  hence  it  was,  that,  as  the 


MEMOIR.  XXXV11 

day  of  trial  came,  and  the  hour  for  action  drew 
near,  she  was  found  not  unprepared  to  submit 
to  the  lot  appointed  her.  Mr.  Adams  was  elect 
ed  one  of  the  delegates  on  the  part  of  Massa 
chusetts,  instructed  to  meet  persons  chosen  in 
the  same  manner  from  the  other  colonies,  for 
the  purpose  of  consulting  in  common  upon  the 
course  most  advisable  to  be  adopted  by  them. 
In  the  month  of  August,  1774,  he  left  home,  in 
company  with  Samuel  Adams,  Thomas  Gush 
ing,  and  Robert  Treat  Paine,  to  go  to  Philadel 
phia,  at  which  place  the  proposed  assembly  was 
to  be  held.  It  is  from  this  period,  that  the  cor 
respondence,  Mrs.  Adams's  portion  of  which  is 
now  submitted  to  the  public,  becomes  interest 
ing.  The  letter  of  the  19th  of  August  of  this 
year1  portrays  her  own  feelings  upon  this,  the 
first  separation  of  importance  from  her  husband, 
and  the  anxiety  with  which  she  was  watching 
the  course  of  events.  Yet  there  is  in  it  not  a 
syllable  of  regret  for  the  past,  or  of  fear  for  the 
future;  but,  on  the  contrary,  an  acute  percep 
tion  of  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of  an  immedi 
ate  return  to  peaceful  times,  and  a  deliberate 
preparation,  by  reading  and  reflection,  for  the 
worst.  The  Congress  confined  itself,  in  its  first 
sessions,  to  consultation  and  remonstrance.  It 

1  Vol.  I.  page  13. 


XXXV111  MEMOIR. 

therefore  adjourned  after  the  lapse  of  only  two 
months.  It  is  during  this  time,  that  the  five 
letters  in  the  present  volume  which  bear  date 
in  1774,  were  written.  They  furnish  a  lively 
exhibition  of  the  state  of  public  feeling  in  Mas 
sachusetts.  That  dated  on  the  14th  of  Septem 
ber,  is  particularly  interesting,  as  it  gives  an 
account  of  the  securing  the  gunpowder  from  the 
British,  in  her  own  town  of  Braintree,  as  well 
as  a  highly  characteristic  trait  of  New  England, 
in  the  refusal  to  cheer  on  a  Sunday.  The  last 
of  this  series,  dated  on  the  16th  of  October, 
shows  that  all  remaining  hopes  of  peace  and 
reconciliation  were  fast  vanishing  from  her 
mind;  and  in  an  affecting  manner  she  "  bids 
adieu  to  domestic  felicity  perhaps  until  the 
meeting  with  her  husband  in  another  world, 
since  she  looks  forward  to  nothing  further  in 
this  than  sacrifices,  as  the  result  of  the  impend 
ing  contest."  ] 

The  second  meeting  of  the  Congress,  which 
took  place  in  May,  1775,  was  marked  by  events 
which  wholly  changed  the  nature  of  its  deliber 
ations.  Up  to  that  period,  the  struggle  had 
been  only  a  dispute.  It  then  took  the  more 
fearful  shape  of  a  war.  Mr.  Adams  left  his 
house  and  family  at  Braintree  on  the  14th  of 

1  Vol.  I.  page  26. 


MEMOIR.  XXXIX 

April,  only  five  days  before  the  memorable  in 
cident  at  Lexington,  which  was  a  signal  for  the 
final  appeal  to  arms.  The  news  of  the  affair 
reached  him  at  Hartford,  on  his  way  to  Phila 
delphia.  General  Gage  had  planned  his  attack 
upon  Lexington  with  the  knowledge  that  John 
Hancock  and  Samuel  Adams,  two  of  the  dele 
gates  to  the  general  Congress,  were  in  that 
place  at  the  time ;  and  it  was  probably  one  of 
his  objects  to  seize  them,  if  they  could  be  found. 
Gordon,  the  historian,  attributes  their  escape 
only  to  a  friendly  warning  given  them  by  a 
woman  residing  in  Boston,  but  "  unequally 
yoked  in  politics."  There  was  nearly  the  same 
reason  for  apprehension  on  the  part  of  John 
Adams.  His  house  was  situated  still  nearer  to 
Boston,  could  be  more  easily  approached  by 
water,  and  his  family,  if  not  he  himself,  was 
known  to  be  residing  there.  Under  these  cir 
cumstances,  what  the  feelings  of  Mrs.  Adams, 
left  with  the  care  of  four  small  children,  the 
eldest  not  ten  years  of  age,  must  have  been, 
may  readily  be  conceived.  But  the  letters,  in 
which  she  describes  them,  bring  the  idea  home 
to  the  mind  with  still  greater  force.  She  tells 
us,  that,  upon  the  separation  from  her  husband, 
"  her  heart  had  felt  like  a  heart  of  lead,"  and 
that  "  she  never  trusts  herself  long  with  the 
terrors  that  sometimes  intrude  themselves  upon 


MEMOIR. 


her  ;"  that  "  since  the  never-to-be-forgotten  day 
of  his  departure,  the  14th  of  April,  nothing  had 
agitated  her  so  much  as  the  news  of  the  arrival 
of  recruits  ;"  and  that,  "  she  lives  in  continual 
expectation  of  alarms."  Neither  were  these 
apprehensions  altogether  groundless.  The  let 
ter  of  the  4th  of  May  mentions  that  Colonel 
Quincy's  family,  whose  residence  was  nearer  to 
the  water-side  than  hers,  had  taken  refuge  for 
one  night  with  her.  That  of  the  24th,  gives  a 
highly  vivid  picture  of  the  consternation  into 
which  the  whole  town  was  thrown  by  a  party 
of  British,  foraging  upon  an  island  in  the  har 
bour,  close  upon  the  town.  Then  follow  the 
account  of  the  battle  on  Bunker's  Hill,  and  the 
burning  of  Charlestown,  dreadful  events  to 
those  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Boston  and 
to  herself;  yet,  in  the  midst  of  them,  the  writer 
adds,  that  she  is  "  distressed,  but  not  dis 
mayed,"  and  that  "  she  has  been  able  to  main 
tain  a  calmness  and  presence  of  mind,  and 
hopes  she  shall,  let  the  exigency  of  the  time  be 
what  it  will."  l 

But  it  is  superfluous  to  endeavour  to  heighten 
the  picture  given  in  the  letters  with  so  much 
distinctness.  Mr.  Adams  seems  to  have  been 
startled  on  the  arrival  of  the  intelligence  at 

1  Vol.  I.  pages  30—43. 


MEMOIR. 


Hartford.  Conscious,  however,  that  his  return 
would  rather  tend  to  add  to,  than  diminish,  the 
hazard  to  which  his  family  was  exposed,  he 
contented  himself  with  writing  encouragement, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  his  directions  in  case  of 
positive  danger.  "In  a  cause  which  interests 
the  whole  globe,"  he  says,  "  at  a  time  when 
my  friends  and  country  are  in  such  keen  dis 
tress,  I  am  scarcely  ever  interrupted  in  the  least 
degree  by  apprehensions  for  my  personal  safety. 
I  am  often  concerned  for  you  and  our  dear 
babes,  surrounded,  as  you  are,  by  people  who 
are  too  timorous,  and  too  much  susceptible  of 
alarms.  Many  fears  and  jealousies  and  imagi 
nary  evils  will  be  suggested  to  you,  but  I  hope 
you  will  not  be  impressed  by  them.  In  case  of 
real  danger,  of  which  you  cannot  fail  to  have 
previous  intimations,  fly  to  the  woods  with  our 
children." 

Mr.  Adams  very  well  knew  to  whom  he  was 
recommending  such  an  appalling  alternative, 
the  very  idea  of  which  would  have  been  intol 
erable  to  many  women.  The  trial  Mrs.  Adams 
was  called  to  undergo  from  the  fears  of  those 
immediately  around  her,  was  one  in  addition 
to  that  caused  by  her  own  apprehensions  ;  a 
trial,  it  may  be  remarked,  of  no  ordinary  nature  ; 
since  it  demands  the  exercise  of  a  presence  of 
mind  and  accuracy  of  judgment  in  distinguish- 


Xlii  MEMOIR. 

ing  the  false  from  the  true,  that  falls  to  the  lot 
of  few  even  of  the  stronger  sex.  It  is  the  ten 
dency  of  women  in  general,  to  suffer  quite  as 
much  anxiety  from  the  activity  of  the  imagina 
tion,  as  if  it  was,  in  every  instance,  founded 
upon  reasonable  cause. 

But  the  sufferings  of  this  remarkable  year 
were  not  limited  to  the  mind  alone.  The  ter 
rors  of  war  were  accompanied  with  the  ravages 
of  pestilence.  Mr.  Adams  was  at  home  during 
the  period  of  adjournment  of  the  Congress, 
which  was  only  for  the  month  of  August ;  but 
scarcely  had  he  crossed  his  threshold,  when  the 
dysentery,  a  disease  which  had  already  signi 
fied  its  approach  in  scattering  instances  about 
the  neighbourhood  of  the  besieged  town  of  Bos 
ton  where  it  had  commenced,  assumed  a  highly 
epidemic  character,  and  marked  its  victims  in 
every  family.  A  younger  brother  of  Mr.  Ad 
ams  had  fallen  among  the  earliest  in  the  town ; 
but  it  was  not  till  his  departure  for  Philadel 
phia,  that  almost  every  member  of  his  own 
household  was  seized.  The  letters  written 
during  the  month  of  September,  1775,  besides 
being  exclusively  personal,  are  too  uniformly 
mournful  in  their  tone  to  be  suitable  for  inser 
tion  in  full  in  the  present  collection  ;  yet  it 
would  be  failing  to  give  an  accurate  idea  of  the 
character  of  Mrs.  Adams,  to  omit  a  notice  of 


MEMOIR.  xliii 

them  altogether.  A  few  extracts,  reserved  for 
this  personal  narrative,  have  been  thought  likely 
to  answer  the  purpose  better  than  if  they  were 
submitted  in  full  to  the  public  eye. 

On  the  8th  of  September,  she  commences 
thus ; 

"  Since  you  left  me,  I  have  passed  through 
great  distress  both  of  body  and  mind ;  and 
whether  greater  is  to  be  my  portion,  Heaven 
only  knows.  You  may  remember  Isaac  was 
unwell  when  you  went  from  home.  His  dis 
order  increased,  until  a  violent  dysentery  was 
the  consequence  of  his  complaints.  There  was 
no  resting-place  in  the  house  for  his  terrible 
groans.  He  continued  in  this  state  nearly  one 
week,  when  his  disorder  abated,  and  we  have 
now  hopes  of  his  recovery.  Two  days  after  he 
was  sick,  I  was  seized  in  a  violent  manner. 
Had  I  known  you  were  at  Watertown,  I  should 
have  sent  Bracket  for  you.  I  suffered  greatly 
between  my  inclination  to  have  you  return,  and 
my  fear  of  sending,  lest  you  should  be  a  parta 
ker  of  the  common  calamity.  After  three  days, 
an  abatement  of  my  disease  relieved  me  from 
that  anxiety.  The  next  person  in  the  same 
week,  was  Susy ;  her  we  carried  home,  and 
hope  she  will  not  be  very  bad.  Our  little 
Tommy  was  the  next,  and  he  lies  very  ill  now. 
Yesterday  Patty  was  seized.  Our  house  is  a 


xllV  MEMOIR. 

hospital  in  every  part,  and,  what  with  my  own 
weakness  and  distress  of  mind  for  my  family,  I 
have  been  unhappy  enough.  And  such  is  the 
distress  of  the  neighbourhood,  that  I  can  scarcely 
find  a  well  person  to  assist  me  in  looking  after 
the  sick." 

On  the  16th,  after  saying  that  her  letter  will 
be  only  a  bill  of  mortality,  and  that,  of  all  the 
members  of  her  household,  one  only  had  escap 
ed  the  disorder,  she  adds  ; 

"  The  dread  upon  the  minds  of  people  of 
catching  the  distemper  is  almost  as  great  as  if 
it  was  the  small-pox.  I  have  been  distressed, 
more  than  ever  I  was  in  my  life,  to  procure 
watchers  and  to  get  assistance.  We  have  been 
four  Sabbaths  without  any  meeting.  Thus  does 
pestilence  travel  in  the  rear  of  war,  to  remind 
us  of  our  entire  dependence  upon  that  Being, 
who  not  only  directeth  the  '  arrow  by  day,'  but 
has  also  at  His  command  l  the  pestilence  which 
walketh  in  darkness.'  So  uncertain  and  so 
transitory  are  all  the  enjoyments  of  life,  that, 
were  it  not  for  the  tender  connexions  which 
bind  us,  would  it  not  be  a  folly  to  wish  for  a 
continuance  here  ?" 

On  the  25th,  she  mentions  the  illness  of  her 
mother. 

"I  sit  down  with  a  heavy  heart  to  write  to 
you.  I  have  had  no  other  since  you  left  me. 


MEMOIR.  Xv 

Woe  follows  woe,  and  one  affliction  treads  upon 
the  heels  of  another.  My  distress  in  my  own 
family  having  in  some  measure  abated,  it  is  ex 
cited  anew  upon  that  of  my  dear  mother.  Her 
kindness  brought  her  to  see  me  every  day  when 
I  was  ill,  and  our  little  Thomas.  She  has 
taken  the  disorder,  and  lies  so  bad,  that  we 
have  little  hope  of  her  recovery." 

On  the  29th; 

"  It  is  allotted  me  to  go  from  the  sick  and 
almost  dying  bed  of  one  of  the  best  of  parents, 
to  my  own  habitation,  where  again  I  behold 
the  same  scene,  only  varied  by  a  remoter  con 
nexion, 

'  A  bitter  change,  severer  for  severe.' 

You  can  more  easily  conceive  than  I  describe, 
what  are  the  sensations  of  my  heart  when 
absent  from  either,  continually  expecting  a 
messenger  with  the  fatal  tidings." 

Then  follows  the  letter  of  the  1st  of  October, 
which,  as  making  the  climax  of  her  distress,  is 
inserted  at  length  in  this  volume.1  The  follow 
ing  week,  Patty,  the  female  domestic  mentioned 
as  the  other  sick  person,  also  died  ;  after  which, 
there  appears  to  have  been  no  return  of  the  dis 
ease.  But  among  all  the  trying  scenes  of  the 

1  Vol.  I.  page  67. 


MEMOIR. 


war  of  the  Revolution,  it  is  doubtful  whether 
any  much  exceeded  this. 

"  The  desolation  of  war  is  not  so  distressing," 
she  writes,  "  as  the  havoc  made  by  the  pesti 
lence.  Some  poor  parents  are  mourning  the 
loss  of  three,  four,  and  five  children  ;  and  some 
families  are  wholly  stripped  of  every  member." 

Such  as  these  are  the  kinds  of  trial,  of  which 
history  takes  little  or  no  note,  yet  in  which 
female  fortitude  is  most  severely  exercised. 
Without  designing  to  detract  from  the  unques 
tioned  merit  of  that  instrument,  it  must  never 
theless  be  affirmed,  that  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  called  by  the  celebrated  John 
Randolph  "  a  fanfaronade  of  abstractions," 
might  very  naturally  be  expected  to  reward  the 
efforts  of  its  signers  with  a  crown  of  immor 
tality  ;  whilst  the  large  share  of  the  cost  of 
maintaining  it,  wrung  from  the  bleeding  hearts 
of  the  women  of  the  Revolution,  was  paid  with 
out  any  hope  or  expectation  of  a  similar  com 
pensation. 

Mr.  Adams  was  again  at  home  in  the  month 
of  December,  during  the  sessions  of  the  Con 
gress,  which  were  now  continued  without  inter 
mission.  It  was  upon  his  departure  for  the 
third  time,  that  the  long  and  very  remarkable 
letter,  bearing  date  March  2d,  1776,1  and  con- 

1  Vol.  I.  p.  87. 


MEMOIR.  Xlvii 

tinned  through  several  days,  was  written ;  a 
letter  composed  in  the  midst  of  the  din  of  war, 
and  describing  hopes  and  fears  in  a  manner 
deeply  interesting.  With  this  the  description  of 
active  scenes  in  the  war  terminates.  The  Brit 
ish  force  soon  afterwards  evacuated  Boston  arid 
Massachusetts,  which  did  not  again  become  the 
field  of  military  action.  The  correspondence 
now  changes  its  character.  From  containing 
accounts  of  stirring  events  directly  under  the 
writer's  eye,  the  letters  assume  a  more  private 
form,  and  principally  relate  to  the  management 
of  the  farm  and  the  household.  Few  of  these 
would  be  likely  to  amuse  the  general  reader ; 
yet  some  are  necessary,  as  specimens  of  a  por 
tion  of  the  author's  character.  Mr.  Adams  was 
never  a  man  of  large  fortune.  His  profession, 
which  had  been  a  source  of  emolument,  was 
now  entirely  taken  away  from  him ;  and  his 
only  dependence  for  the  support  of  his  family 
was  in  the  careful  husbanding  of  the  means  in 
actual  possession.  It  is  not  giving  to  his  wife 
too  much  credit  to  affirm,  that  by  her  prudence 
through  the  years  of  the  Revolution,  and  indeed 
during  the  whole  period  when  the  attention  of 
her  husband  was  engrossed  by  public  affairs, 
she  saved  him  from  the  mortification  in  his  last 
days,  which  some  of  those  who  have  been,  like 
him,  elevated  to  the  highest  situations  in  the 


xlviii  MEMOIR. 

country,  have,  for  want  of  such  care,  not  alto 
gether  escaped. 

In  the  month  of  November,  1777,  Mr.  Adams 
again  visited   his  home,   and  never  afterwards 
rejoined  the  Congress ;  for  that  body,  in  his  ab 
sence,  had  elected  him  to  perform  a  duty  in  a 
distant  land.     This  was  destined  to  furnish  a 
severe  trial  to  the  fortitude  of  Mrs.  Adams.    On 
the  25th  of  October,  she  had  written  a  letter  to 
him,  it  being  the  anniversary  of  their  wedding- 
day,  in  which  she  notices  the  fact,  that  "out  of 
thirteen  years  of  their  married  life,  three  had 
been  passed  in  a  state  of  separation."     Yet  in 
these  years, the  distance  between  them  had  never 
been  very  great,  and  the  means  of  communica 
tion  almost  always  reasonably  speedy  and  cer 
tain.     She  appears  little  to   have   anticipated, 
that  in  a  few  short  weeks  she  was  to  be  depriv 
ed  of  even  these  compensations,  and  to  send  her 
husband  to  a  foreign  country,  over  seas  covered 
with  the  enemy's  ships.     "  I  very  well  remem 
ber,"   she  says,  in  an  earlier  letter,    "  when  the 
eastern  circuits  of  the  courts,  which  lasted  a 
month,  were  thought  an  age,  and  an  absence  of 
three  months,  intolerable;  but  we  are   carried 
from  step  to  step,  and  from  one  degree  to  ano 
ther,  to  endure  that  which  first  we  think  in 
supportable."     It  was  in  exact  accordance  with 
this  process,  that  the  separations  of  half  a  year 
or  more  were  to  be  followed  by  those  which 


MEMOIR.  xlix 

lasted  many  years,  and  the  distance  from  Bos 
ton  to  Philadelphia  or  Baltimore  was  lengthen 
ed  to  Paris  and  a  different  quarter  of  the  globe. 
Upon  the  reception  of  the  news  of  his  appoint 
ment  as  joint  commissioner  at  the  court  of 
France,  in  the  place  of  Silas  Deane,  Mr.  Adams 
lost  no  time  in  making  his  arrangements  for  the 
voyage.  But  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  think 
of  risking  his  wife  and  children  all  at  once  with 
him  in  so  perilous  an  enterprise.  The  frigate 
Boston,  a  small,  and  not  very  good  vessel, 
mounting  twenty-eight  guns,  had  been  ordered 
to  transport  him  to  his  destination.  The  Brit 
ish  fleet,  stationed  at  Newport,  perfectly  well 
knew  the  circumstances  under  which  she  was 
going,  and  was  on  the  watch  to  favor  the  new 
commissioner  with  a  fate  similar  to  that  after 
wards  experienced  by  Mr.  Laurens.  The 
political  attitude  of  France  still  remained 
equivocal.  Hence,  on  every  account,  it  seemed 
advisable  that  Mr.  Adams  should  go  upon  his 
mission  alone.  He  left  the  shores  of  his  native 
town  to  embark  in  the  frigate,  in  February, 
1778,  accompanied  only  by  his  eldest  son,  John 
Quincy  Adams,  then  a  boy  not  quite  eleven 
years  of  age. 

It  is  not  often  that,  even  upon  that  boisterous 
ocean,  a  voyage  combines  greater  perils  of  war 
and  of  the  elements,  than  did  this  of  the  Boston. 

VOL.    I.  1) 


1  MEMOIR. 

Yet  it  is  by  no  means  unlikely,  that  the  light 
ning  which  struck  the  frigate,  and  the  winds 
that  nearly  sent  it  to  the  bottom,  were  effective 
instruments  to  deter  the  enemy  from  a  pursuit 
which  threatened  to  end  in  capture.  This  is 
not,  however,  the  place  to  enlarge  upon  this 
story.  It  is  alluded  to  only  as  connected  with 
the  uneasiness  experienced  by  Mrs.  Adams,  who 
was  left  alone  to  meditate  upon  the  hazard  to 
which  her  husband  was  exposed.  Her  letter, 
written  not  long  after  the  sailing  of  the  frigate, 
distinctly  shows  her  feelings.1  But  we  find  by 
it,  that,  to  all  the  causes  for  anxiety  which 
would  naturally  have  occurred  to  her  mind, 
there  was  superadded  one  growing  out  of  a 
rumor  then  in  circulation,  that  some  British 
emissary  had  made  an  attempt  upon  the  life  of 
Dr.  Franklin,  whilst  acting  at  Paris  in  the  very 
commission,  of  which  her  husband  had  been 
made  a  part.  This  was  a  kind  of  apprehension 
as  new  as  it  was  distressing  ;  one  too,  the  vague 
nature  of  which  tended  infinitely  to  multiply 
those  terrors  that  had  a  better  foundation  in 
reality. 

The  news  of  the  surrender  of  General  Bur- 
goyne  had  done  more  to  hasten  the  desired  ac 
knowledgment,  by  France,  of  the  independence 
of  the  United  States,  than  all  the  efforts  which 

1  Vol.  I.  page  116. 


MEMOIR.  H 

Commissioners  could  have  made.  Upon  his 
arrival  in  France,  Mr.  Adams  found  the  great 
object  of  his  mission  accomplished,  and  himself, 
consequently,  left  with  little  or  no  occupation. 
He  did  not  wait  in  Europe  to  know  the  further 
wishes  of  Congress,  but  returned  home  in  Au 
gust,  1779.  Only  a  brief  enjoyment  of  his  soci 
ety  by  his  family  was  the  result,  inasmuch  as 
in  October  he  was  again  ordered  by  Congress 
to  go  to  Europe,  and  there  to  wait  until  Great 
Britain  should  manifest  an  inclination  to  treat 
with  him,  and  terminate  the  war.  In  obedience 
to  these  directions,  he  sailed  in  November  on 
board  of  the  French  frigate  Sensible,  taking 
with  him  upon  this  occasion  his  two  eldest  sons. 
The  day  of  his  embarkation  is  marked  by  a 
letter  in  the  present  collection,  quite  touching 
in  its  character.1 

The  ordinary  occupations  of  the  female  sex 
are  necessarily  of  a  kind  which  must  ever  pre 
vent  it  from  partaking  largely  of  the  action  of 
life.  However  keenly  women  may  think  or 
feel,  there  is  seldom  an  occasion  when  the  sphere 
of  their  exertions  can  with  propriety  be  extend 
ed  much  beyond  the  domestic  hearth  or  the  so 
cial  circle.  Exactly  here  are  they  to  be  seen 
most  in  their  glory.  Three  or  four  years  pass 
ed  whilst  Mrs.  Adams  was  living  in  the  utmost 

1  Vol.  I.  page  142. 


Ill  MEMOIR. 

seclusion  of  country  life,  during  which,  on  ac 
count  of  the  increasing  vigilance  of  British 
cruisers,  she  very  seldom  heard  from  her  hus 
band.  The  material  for  interesting  letters  was 
proportionately  small,  and  yet  there  was  no 
time  when  she  was  more  usefully  occupied.  It 
is  impossible  to  omit  all  notice  of  this  period, 
however  deficient  it  may  prove  in  variety.  The 
depreciation  of  the  Continental  paper  money, 
the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  managing  the 
property  of  her  husband,  her  own  isolation,  and 
the  course  of  public  events  in  distant  parts  of 
the  country,  form  her  constant  topics.  Only 
a  small  number  of  the  letters  which  discuss 
them,  yet  enough  to  show  her  situation  at  this 
period,  have  been  admitted  into  these  volumes. 
They  are  remarkable,  because  they  display  the 
readiness  with  which  she  could  devote  herself 
ito  the  most  opposite  duties,  and  the  cheerful 
manner  in  which  she  could  accommodate  her 
self  to  the  difficulties  of  the  times.  She  is  a 
farmer  cultivating  the  land,  and  discussing  the 
weather  and  the  crops;  a  merchant  reporting 
prices-current  and  the  rates  of  exchange,  and 
directing  the  making  up  of  invoices  ;  a  politician 
speculating  upon  the  probabilities  of  peace  or 
war ;  and  a  mother  writing  the  most  exalted 
sentiments  to  her  son.  All  of  these  pursuits  she 
adopts  together ;  some  from  choice,  the  rest 


MEMOIR.  llll 

from  the  necessity  of  the  case ;  and  in  all  she 
appears  equally  well.  Yet,  among  the  letters 
of  this  period,  there  will  be  found  two  or  three, 
which  rise  in  their  tone  very  far  above  the  rest, 
and  which  can  scarcely  fail  to  awaken  the 
sympathy  of  the  coldest  reader.1 

The  signature  of  the  Treaty  of  Peace  with 
Great  Britain,  which  fully  established  the  Inde 
pendence  of  the  United  States,  did  not  termi 
nate  the  residence  of  Mr.  Adams  in  Europe. 
He  was  ordered  by  Congress  to  remain  there, 
and,  in  conjunction  with  Dr.  Franklin  and  Mr. 
Jefferson,  to  establish  by  treaty  commercial  re 
lations  with  foreign  powers.  And  not  long 
afterwards  a  new  commission  was  sent  him  as 
the  first  representative  of  the  nation  to  him  who 
had  been  their  King.  The  duties  prescribed 
seemed  likely  to  require  a  residence  sufficiently 
long  to  authorize  him  in  a  request  that  Mrs. 
Adams  should  join  him  in  Europe.  After  some 
hesitation,  she  finally  consented ;  and,  in  June, 
1784,  she  sailed  from  Boston  in  a  merchant 
vessel  bound  to  London.  The  journal  of  her 
voyage,  given  in  a  letter  to  her  sister,  Mrs. 
Cranch,  makes  a  part  of  the  present  collection.2 
From  this  date  the  correspondence  assumes  a 


1  Vol.  I.  pages  168,  172,  175. 
*  Vol.  II.  page  3. 


Hv  MEMOIR. 

new  character.  Mrs.  Adams  found  herself,  at 
the  age  of  forty,  suddenly  transplanted  into  a 
scene  wholly  new.  From  a  life  of  the  utmost 
retirement,  in  a  small  and  quiet  country  town 
of  New  England,  she  was  at  once  transferred 
to  the  busy  and  bustling  scenes  of  the  populous 
and  wealthy  cities  of  Europe.  Not  only  was 
her  position  novel  to  herself,  but  there  had  been 
nothing  like  it  among  her  countrywomen.  She 
was  the  first  representative  of  her  sex  from  the 
United  States  at  the  Court  of  Great  Britain. 
The  impressions  made  upon  her  mind  were 
therefore  received  when  it  was  uncommonly 
open,  and  free  from  the  ordinary  restraints 
which  an.  established  routine  of  precedents  is 
apt  to  create.  Her  residence  in  France  during 
the  first  year  of  her  European  experience  ap 
pears  to  have  been  much  enjoyed,  notwith 
standing  the  embarrassment  felt  by  her  from 
not  speaking  the  language.  That  in  England, 
which  lasted  three  years,  was  somewhat  affect 
ed  by  the  temper  of  the  sovereign.  George  and 
his  Queen  could  not  get  over  the  mortification 
attending  the  loss  of  the  American  Colonies,  nor 
at  all  times  suppress  the  manifestation  of  it, 
when  the  presence  of  their  Minister  forced  the 
subject  on  their  recollection.  Mrs.  Adams's 
account  of  her  presentation  is  among  the  letters 


MEMOIR.  IV 

of  this  period.1  It  was  not  more  than  civilly 
met  on  the  part  of  the  Queen,  whose  subsequent 
conduct  was  hardly  so  good  as  on  that  occasion. 
Mrs.  Adams  appears  never  to  have  forgotten  it ; 
for  at  a  much  later  period,  when,  in  consequence 
of  the  French  Revolution,  the  throne  of  Eng 
land  was  thought  to  be  in  danger,  she  writes  to 
her  daughter  with  regret  at  the  prospect  for  the 
country,  but  without  sympathy  for  the  Queen. 
"  Humiliation  for  Charlotte,"  she  says,  "  is  no 
sorrow  for  me.  She  richly  deserves  her  full 
portion  for  the  contempt  and  scorn  which  she 
took  pains  to  discover."  Of  course,  the  cour 
tiers  followed  the  lead  thus  given  to  them,  and 
the  impression  made  against  America  at  the 
very  outset  of  its  national  career  has  hardly 
been  effaced  down  to  this  day.  It  is  to  be  ob 
served,  however,  that  one  circumstance  con 
tributed  to  operate  against  the  situation  of  the 
first  American  Minister  to  Great  Britain,  which 
has  affected  none  of  his  successors.  This  was 
the  conduct  of  the  States  whilst  yet  under  the 
Confederation,  justifying  the  general  impression 
that  they  were  incapable  of  the  self-govern 
ment,  the  right  to  which  they  had  so  zealously 
fought  to  obtain.  Of  the  effect  of  this  upon 
herself,  Mrs.  Adams  will  be  found  frequently  to 
speak. 

1  24  June,  1785. 


Ivi  MEMOIR. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  these  drawbacks,  she 
seems  to  have  enjoyed  much  her  residence  in 
the  mother  country.  Her  letters  to  her  sisters 
during  this  period  have  been  admitted  almost 
in  extenso  in  the  present  volume.  They  describe 
no  scenes  of  particular  novelty  to  the  reading 
public,  it  is  true ;  but  they  delineate  in  so  natu 
ral  and  easy  a  manner  the  impressions  received 
from  objects  new  to  the  writer,  that  it  is  hoped 
they  will  fully  reward  perusal.  The  period 
was  not  without  its  peculiar  character  to  Amer 
icans.  Their  country,  exhausted  by  her  efforts 
in  the  war  of  Independence,  had  not  yet  put 
herself  in  the  way  of  restoration  by  adopting  a 
good  form  of  government.  It  was  even  a  mat 
ter  of  doubt  whether  her  liberty  was  likely  to 
prove  a  blessing,  or  to  degenerate  into  a  curse. 
On  the  other  hand,  France,  Holland,  and  Great 
Britain  respectively  presented  an  outward  spec 
tacle  of  wealth  and  prosperity  not  perceptibly 
impaired  by  the  violent  struggle  between  them, 
that  had  just  terminated.  This  contrast  is  fre 
quently  marked  in  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Adams  ; 
but  the  perception  of  it  does  not  appear  to  have 
in  any  degree  qualified  the  earnestness  of  her 
attachment  to  her  own  very  modest  home. 
"  Whatever  is  to  be  the  fate  of  our  country," 
she  says  to  her  sister,  "  we  have  determined  to 


MEMOIR. 


come  home  and  share  it  with  you."1  She  had 
very  little  of  that  susceptibility  of  transfer, 
which  is  a  characteristic,  not  less  of  the  culti 
vated  and  wealthy  class  of  our  countrymen, 
who  cling  to  the  luxury  of  the  old  world,  than 
of  the  adventurous  and  hardy  sons  of  labor, 
who  carve  out  for  themselves  a  new  home  in 
the  forests  of  the  West. 

The  return  of  Mr.  Adams,  with  his  family, 
to  the  United  States,  the  liberty  for  which  was 
granted  by  Congress  to  his  own  request,  was 
simultaneous  with  the  adoption  of  the  present 
Constitution  by  the  decision  of  the  ratifying 
Conventions.  Upon  the  organization  of  the 
government  under  the  new  form,  he  was  elected 
to  fill  the  office  of  Vice-President,  that  of  Presi 
dent  being,  by  a  more  general  consent,  awarded 
to  General  Washington.  By  this  arrangement, 
a  residence  at  the  seat  of  government  during  the 
sessions  of  the  Senate  was  made  necessary  ; 
and,  as  that  was  fixed  first  at  New  York,  and 
then  at  Philadelphia,  Mrs.  Adams  enjoyed  an 
opportunity  to  mix  freely  with  the  society  of 
both  places.  Some  of  her  letters  descriptive  of 
it  have  been  selected  for  publication  in  this  col* 
lection. 

The  voluntary  retirement  of  General  Wash 
ington,  at  the  end  of  eight  years,  from  the 

1  25  February,  1787. 


Iviii  MEMOIR. 

Presidency,  was  the  signal  for  the  great  strug 
gle  between  the  two  political  parties,  which 
had  been  rapidly  maturing  their  organization, 
during  his  term  of  administration.  Mr.  Adams 
was  elected  his  successor  by  a  bare  majority  of 
the  electoral  colleges,  and  against  the  inclina 
tions  of  one  section  even  of  that  party  which  sup 
ported  him.  The  open  defection  of  that  section, 
at  the  following  election,  turned  the  scale  against 
him,  and  brought  Mr.  Jefferson  into  his  place. 
Of  course,  the  letters  of  Mrs.  Adams,  at  this 
period,  largely  partake  of  the  excitement  of  the 
day.  From  early  life,  she  had  learnt  to  take  a 
deep  interest  in  the  course  of  political  affairs, 
and  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  this. would 
decline,  whilst  her  husband  was  a  chief  actor 
in  the  scene,  and  a  butt  for  the  most  malignant 
shafts  which  party  animosity  could  throw.  As 
it  is  not  the  design  of  this  publication  to  revive 
any  old  disputes,  most  of  these  letters  have  been 
excluded  from  it.  Two  or  three  exceptions, 
however,  have  been  made.  The  first  is  the 
letter  of  the  8th  of  February,  1797,  the  day 
upon  which  the  votes  for  President  were  count 
ed,  and  Mr.  Adams,  as  Vice-President,  was 
required  by  law  to  announce  himself  the  Presi 
dent  elect  for  the  ensuing  term.  This,  though 
extremely  short,  appears  to  the  Editor  to  be  the 
gem  of  the  collection  j  for  the  exalted  feeling  of 


MEMOIR.  llX 

the  moment  shines  out  with  all  the  lustre  of 
ancient  patriotism.  Perhaps  there  is  not,  among 
the  whole  number  of  her  letters,  one  which,  in 
its  spirit,  brings  so  strongly  to  mind,  as  this 
does,  the  celebrated  Roman  lady,  whose  signa 
ture  she  at  one  time  assumed ;  whilst  it  is 
chastened  by  a  sentiment  of  Christian  humility, 
of  which  ancient  history  furnishes  no  example. 
At  this  time,  the  health  of  Mrs.  Adams,  which 
had  never  been  very  firm,  began  decidedly  to 
fail.  Her  residence  at  Philadelphia  had  not 
been  favorable,  as  it  had  subjected  her  to  the 
attack  of  an  intermittent  fever,  from  the  effects 
of  which  she  was  never  afterwards  perfectly 
free.  The  desire  to  enjoy  the  bracing  air  of 
her  native  climate,  as  well  as  to  keep  together 
the  private  property  of  her  husband,  upon  which 
she  early  foresaw  that  he  would  be  obliged  to 
rely  for  their  support  in  their  last  years,  prompted 
her  to  reside,  much  of  the  time,  at  Quincy. 
Such  was  the  name  now  given  to  that  part  of 
the  ancient  town  of  Braintree,  in  which  she 
had  always  lived.  Yet  when  at  the  seat  of 
Government,  whether  in  Philadelphia  or  Wash 
ington,  t'ie  influence  of  her  kindly  feelings  and 
cheerful  temper  did  much  to  soften  the  asper 
ities  of  the  time.  A  good  idea  of  the  privations 
and  discomforts,  to  which  she  was  subjected  in 
the  President's  House  at  Washington,  when 


IX  MEMOIR. 

that  place  had  scarcely  emerged  from  the  prim 
itive  forest,  may  be  formed  from  one  or  two 
other  letters,  which,  in  this  view,  are  excepted 
from  the  general  exclusion.1  In  the  midst  of 
public  or  private  troubles,  the  buoyant  spirit  of 
Mrs.  Adams  never  forsook  her.  "  I  am  a  mor 
tal  enemy,"  she  writes  upon  one  occasion  to  her 
husband,  "  to  any  thing  but  a  cheerful  coun 
tenance  and  a  merry  heart,  which,  Solomon 
tells  us,  does  good  like  a  medicine."  This  spirit 
contributed  greatly  to  lift  up  his  heart,  when 
surrounded  by  difficulties  and  danger,  exposed 
to  open  hostility  and  secret  detraction,  and  re 
sisting  a  torrent  of  invective,  such  as  it  may 
well  be  doubted  whether  any  other  individual 
in  public  station  in  the  United  States  has  ever 
tried  to  stem.  It  was  this  spirit,  which  soothed 
his  wounded  feelings,  when  the  country,  which 
he  had  served  in  the  full  consciousness  of  the 
perfect  honesty  of  his  motives,  threw  him  off, 
and  signified  its  preference  for  other  statesmen. 
There  often  are,  even  in  this  life,  more  compen 
sations  for  the  severest  of  the  troubles  that 
afflict  mankind,  than  we  are  apt  to  think.  It 
may  be  questioned  whether  Mr.  Adams's  more 
successful  rival,  who,  in  the  day  of  his  power, 
wielded  popular  masses  with  far  greater  skill 
and  success  than  he,  ever  realized,  in  the  hours 

1  21  and  27  November,  1800. 


MEMOIR.  Ixi 

of  his  subsequent  retirement,  any  consolation 
for  his  pecuniary  embarrassments,  like  that 
which  Mr.  Adams  enjoyed  from  the  faithful 
devotedness  of  his  wife,  and,  it  may  be  added, 
the  successful  labors  of  his  son. 

There  were  many  persons,  in  the  lifetime  of 
the  parties,  who  ascribed  to  Mrs.  Adams  a  de 
gree  of  influence  over  the  public  conduct  of  her 
husband,  far  greater  than  there  was  any  foun 
dation  for  in  truth.  Perhaps  it  is  giving  more 
than  its  due  importance  to  this  idea  to  take  any 
notice  at  all  of  it  in  this  place.  But  the  design 
of  this  Memoir  is  to  set  forth,  in  as  clear  a  light 
as  possible,  the  character  of  its  subject ;  and 
this  cannot  well  be  done  without  a  full  expla 
nation  of  her  personal  relations  to  those  about 
her.  That  her  opinions,  even  upon  public  af 
fairs,  had  at  all  times  great  weight  with  her 
husband,  is  unquestionably  true,  for  he  fre 
quently  marked  upon  her  letters  his  testimony 
to  their  solidity ;  but  there  is  no  evidence,  that 
they  either  originated  or  materially  altered  any 
part  of  the  course  he  had  laid  out  for  himself. 
Whenever  she  differed  in  sentiment  from  him, 
which  was  sometimes  the  case,  she  perfectly 
well  understood  her  own  position,  and  that  the 
best  way  of  recommending  her  views  was  by 
entire  concession.  The  character  of  Mr,  Adams 
is  clearly  visible  in  his  own  papers.  Ardent, 


Ix  MEMOIR. 

vehement  in  support  of  what  he  believed  to  be 
right,  easily  roused  to  anger  by  opposition,  but 
sincere,  placable,  and  generous,  when  made 
conscious  of  having  committed  the  slightest 
wrong,  there  is  no  individual  of  this  time,  about 
whom  there  are  so  few  concealments,  of  either 
faults  or  virtues.  Instances  of  his  imprudence 
are  visible,  and  of  the  mode  in  which  his  wife 
treated  them,  in  at  least  two  letters  of  this  vol 
ume.1  She  was  certain  that  a  word  said,  riot  at 
the  moment  of  irritation,  but  immediately  after 
it  had  passed,  would  receive  great  consideration 
from  him.  She  therefore  waited  the  favorable 
time,  and  thus,  b^the->>cjdiL^es^}f^^ 

of  negative  influence, 


which  often..  prevented  ev-il  -consequences  from 

m^mejija.rxJlldkfij^Lion.     But  her  power  ex- 

|  tended  no  farther,  nor  did  she  seek  to  make  it 

•  do  so,  and  in  this  consisted  her  principal  merit. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  added,  that,  to  men  of  ardent 

and  excitable  temperament,  no  virtue  is  more 

necessary  in  a  wife,  and  none  more  essential  to 

the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  both  the  parties, 

than  that  which  has  been  now  described. 

Four  letters  addressed  to  Mr.  Jefferson  in  the 
year  1804  have  been  admitted  into  the  present 
collection  for  reasons  which  require  a  particular 

1  Letters  of  10  January,  1785,  and  21  November,  1786. 


MEMOIR.  Ixiii 

explanation.  The  answers  written  by  that 
gentleman  were  published  some  time  since  in 
the  collection  of  his  works  made  under  the 
authority  and  supervision  of  his  grandson,  Mr. 
Thomas  Jefferson  Randolph,  though  unaccom 
panied  by  any  comment  which  could  show 
what  it  was  that  they  replied  to  or  how  Mrs. 
Adarns  got  into  the  rather  singular  position 
which  she  occupies  of  a  disputant  with  him 
upon  the  leading  political  questions  of  the  time., 
In  order  to  understand  this,  it  is  necessary  to 
go  back  and  trace  the  early  relations  between 
the  parties  and  the  reasons  why  those  rela 
tions  were  afterwards  changed.  Mr.  Jeffer 
son  went  to  Europe  at  nearly  the  same  time 
with  Mrs.  Adams.  Their  residence  there  was 
of  similar  duration,  though  not  always  in  the 
same  place.  Throughout  the  period  of  that 
residence  an  active  interchange  of  good  offices 
was  carried  on  between  them.  The  official 
connexion  that  existed  between  Mr.  Jefferson 
and  Mr.  Adams,  while  the  latter  remained  in 
France,  was  improved  into  a  pleasant  social 
intimacy.  And  out  of  the  small  circle  of 
Americans,  whom  Mrs.  Adams  met  with  in  that 
country,  Mr.  Jefferson  could  hardly  have  failed 
to  prove,  as  he  did,  by  far  the  most  agreeable  in 
dividual  to  her.  It  will  hence  be  seen,  that  upon 
her  departure  from  Paris,  the  principal  regret 


xv  MEMOIR. 

v  which  she  expresses  to  her  friend  in  America  is 
/at. the  necessity  of  leaving  that  gentleman — for 
ft"  he,"  she  adds,  "  is  one  of  the  choice  ones  of 
Hhe  earth." l  Again,  she  manifests  the  confidence 
which  she  entertains,  both  in  his  patriotism  and 
his  personal  friendship,  in  a  letter  written  to 
another  friend3  after  her  arrival  in  London. 
Her  kindly  feelings  were  still  further  developed 
by  the  arrival  of  his  little  daughter  from  Vir 
ginia,  and  by  the  care  she  was  requested  by 
him  to  take  of  her  during  the  brief  interval  that 
elapsed  before  he  could  send  for  her  to  join  him. 
Indeed,  so  far  did  they  go,  that  when  the  mo 
ment  of  departure  took  place,  the  affectionate 
regret  which  the  child  manifested  at  the  sepa 
ration,  appears  to  have  left  an  indelible  impres 
sion  upon  her  mind.3 

From  the  incidental  notices  thus  gathered  out 
of  Mrs.  Adams's  private  correspondence  with  her 
friends  at  home,  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  up 
to  the  period  of  return  to  America  of  the  parties 
now  in  question,  t]i£L..most  amir.ablfi  relations 
had  existed^dihotrtinterriiption between  thmn. 
Even  after  that  time,  and  when  under  the  ad 
ministration  of  President  Washington,  it  be- 

1  Letter  to  Mrs.  Shaw,  8  May,  1785. 

2  Letter  to  Mrs.  Cranch,  1  October,  1785. 

3  Letter  to  Mrs.  Cranch,  16  July,  1787,  and  that  to  Mr. 
Jefferson,  20  May,  1804. 


MEMOIR.  1XV 

came  certain  that  a  difference  in  political  senti 
ments  must  inevitably  have  the  effect  to  throw 
two  persons,  so  distinguished  as  Mr.  Jefferson 
and  Mr.  Adams  were,  into  collision,  the  social 
intimacy  between  them,  though  slightly  relaxed, 
was  not  materially  disturbed.  The  address  of 
the  former  gentleman  to  the  Senate,  upon  taking 
his  place  as  Vice-President,  shows  the  desire 
he  then  entertained  to  continue  it.  But  events 
were  destined  to  be  stronger  than  men.  Thef] 
vehement  contest  for  the  Presidency  in  1801J/ 
scattered  to  the  winds  all  traces  of  formeJj 
friendship.  It  was  at  that  time  that  each  party 
in  turn  strove  to  discover  in  certain  overt  acts 
of  the  other,  a  justification  for  estrangement, 
which  would  as  certainly  have  occurred,  whether 
those  acts  had  or  had  not  been  committed  with  a 
design  to  give  it  a  form  of  expression.  It  is  not 
in  the  nature  of  men  to  be  able  entirely  to  resist 
the  force  of  those  passions  which  rivalry  in  a 
common  object  of  ardent  desire  will  stir  up  in 
their  bosoms.  The  earnestness  with  which 
Mr.  Jefferson  endeavors  to  deny  their  operation 
upon  him,  whilst  every  page  of  his  letters  shows 
as  clearly  as  light  how  much  sway  they  had 
over  him,  constitutes  the  most  serious  impeach 
ment  that  can  be  brought  against  his  sincerity. 
Tiieie  is  an  appearance  of  duplicity  in  this  par t 
of  his  conductjvyjiicjhjjj^diffi^^  to 

VOL.    I.  E 


xv  MEMOIR. 

explain  away.  The  writer  does  not  however 
attach  great  weight  to  the  charge  in  this  in 
stance.  For  the  fact  can  scarcely  be  doubted, 
that  both  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr.  Jefferson  tried,  as 
hard  as  men  could  do,  to  resist  the  natural  effect 
upon  them  of  their  antagonist  positions.  They 
strove,  each  in  turn,  to  stem  the  prescriptive  fury 
of  the  parties  to  which  they  belonged,  and  that 
with  equally  bad  success.  But  as  the  mode  in 
which  they  attempted  it  is  singularly  illustrative 
of  the  opposite  character  of  the  two  men,  per 
haps  it  may  not  be  without  its  use  to  the  pres 
ent  generation,  to  venture  upon  a  feeble  descrip 
tion  of  it. 

It  is  a  well  attested  fact,  that  Mr.  Adams 
hardly  attained  to  the  Presidency  before  he 
began  to  devise  a  mode  by  which  he  could 
bring  into  office  those  leading  individuals  of  the 
party  politically  opposed  to  him  whom  he  per- 
'sonally  esteemed.  His  offers  to  Mr.  Jefferson, 
to  Mr.  Madison  and  to  Mr.  Gerry,  the  last  of 
whom  only  accepted  them,  are  perfectly  well 
known.  These  offers  were  not  however  made 
without  prodigious  resistance  on  the  part  of 
numbers  of  his  own  political  friends,  and  pro 
bably  contributed  much  to  weaken  the  attach 
ment  of  many,  and  to  promote  the  disaffection 
of  more  of  them.  The  pnn^pgn^nre,  wpg  hig 
fall  from  power  as  the  penalty  of  a  disregard  to 


MEMOIR.  Ixvii 

prudent  counsels.  On  the  other  hand,  Mr.  Jef 
ferson,  when  elected  to  the  same  office,  though 
professing  much  good  will  towards,  and  per 
sonal  esteem  of  his  opponent,  Mr.  Adams,  yet 
candidly  admits1  that  he  suffered  the  dic 
tates  of  his  heart  to  be  ovprrnlprl  hy  fhp.  r[p- 
Gided  negative  interposed  to  nr.tion  nprm  Jhgjn 
on.-the_part.of-his  partisans-advisers.  It  is  not 
probable,  that,  even  had  he  carried  into  effect  his 
proposed  design  to  offer  to  Mr.  Adams  an  office 
of  trust  and  profit  in  Massachusetts,  this  gentle 
man  would  have  accepted  it ;  but  the  offer  alone 
would  have  been  invaluable  to  him  at  the  mo 
ment  of  defeat,  as  a  testimonial  openly  given  by 
his  successful  rival  both  to  his  public  and  private 
integrity.  And  it  would  have  forever  after 
estopped  the  friends  of  the  victorious  candidate 
from  taking  any  ungenerous  advantage  of  their 
victory  over  him. 

But  the  prudence  of  Mr.  Jefferson  gained  the 
mastery  over  his  liberality  of  feeling.  It  went 
even  further  —  for  not  content  with  doing 
nothing  at  all  for  his  rival,  he  actually  inflicted 
upon  him  a  blow.  He  removed,  without  cause 
assigned,  his  son,  John  Quincy  Adams,  from  a 
very  subordinate  office,  the  instant  that  it  hap- 

1  See  the  "  Memoir,  Correspondence  and  Miscellanies, 
from  the  papers  of  Thomas  Jefferson  —  edited  by  Thomas 
Jefferson  Randolph."  Vol.  IV.  p.  158. 


Ixviii  MEMOIR. 

pened  to  come  within  the  reach  of  his  reform 
ing  power.  This  was  perhaps  the  act  that 
carried  with  it  the  most  of  bitterness  to  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Adams.  It  is  no  more  than  due  to  the 
author  of  it  to  add  his  explanation.  He  sol 
emnly  affirms  thaLhe  made  the  removal  with- 
oiiLkno w i n g  whom-h^was.j^moving.  Perh aps 
the  great  majority  of  readers  will  agree  with 
the  writer  in  thinking  much  less  unfavorably 
of  the  deed  itself,  than  of  the  apology  it  was 
thought  advisable  to  make  for  it. 

For  after  all,  it  can  never  be  any  great  im 
peachment  of  Mr.  Jefferson  to  say  that  he 
attempted  no  serious  opposition  to  the  party 
torrent  that  bore  him  into  power ;  a  torrent 
which  must  always  have  its  course  in  the 
United  States,  let  who  will  endeavour  to  resist 
it.  He  knew  the  effort  would  be  futile,  and 
could  be  executed  only  to  his  own  destruction. 
The  true  ground  of  exception  against  him  is, 
that  seeing  and  feeling  the  necessity  of  submis 
sion,  he  did  not  do  it  at  once  with  perfect 
frankness.  Considering  the  very  high  opinion 
which  he  continued  to  profess  towards  his  rival, 
and  which  there  is  no  doubt  he  felt  when  his 
interests  were  not  so  deeply  involved  as  to  lead 
him  to  suppress  it,  it  would  seem  as  if  he  was 
under  some  responsibility  for  the  odium  which 
it  was  in  his  day,  and  still  is  the  pleasure  of  his 


MEMOIR. 


political  disciples,  very  unjustly  to  cast  upon 
Mr.  Adams.  There  were,  doubtless,  great  and 
radical  differences  of  opinion  upon  abstract 
points  in  the  theory  of  government,  between  the 
two  gentlemen.  And  the  soundness  of  their 
respective  notions,  as  Mr.  Jefferson  truly  re 
marks,  yet  remains  to  be  tested  by  the  passage 
of  time  and  the  world's  experience.  In  the 
mean  while,  however,  there  is  no  more  reason  for 
condemning  the  one  party  on  account  of  his 
opinions  than  the  other.  Yet,  notwithstanding 
the  frequent  admission  of  this  truth  in  his  pri 
vate  letters,  it  can  scarcely  be  denied,  that  Mr. 
Jefferson  drew,  during  his  public  life,  every 
possible  advantage  from  the  prevalence  of  a 
wholly  opposite  conviction  in  the  popular  mind. 
A  very  large  number  of  the  citizens  of  the 
Union  were  impressed  not  simply  with  a  dislike 
of  the  sentiments  of  Mr.  Adams,  but  with  a 
conviction  that  our  republican  institutions  were 
in  danger  from  their  predominance  in  his  person. 
This  conviction,  which  was  never  entertained 
by  Mr.  Jefferson,  a  few  words  inserted  in  any 
document,  designed  to  be  public,  and  from  his 
own  hand  when  President,  would  have  gone 
very  far  to  dispel.  He  never  chose  to  give  this 
form  of  utterance  to  them.  It  consequently 
happened,  that  whilst  he  could  affirm  that  in 
private,  "  none  ever  misrepresented  Mr.  Adams 


1XX  MEMOIR. 

in  his  presence  without  his  asserting  his  just 
character,"  his  official  conduct  and  the  tone  of 
all  his  political  friends,  was  constantly  giving  a 
sanction  to  the  grossest  and  most  unequivo 
cal  misrepresentations  of  him.  And  whilst  he 
was  professing  in  secret  a  wish  to  give  him  an 
honorable  office,  his  party  was  studiously  mak 
ing  his  very  name  a  word  of  fear  to  all  the  less 
intelligent  classes  of  the  community.  This  in 
consistency  may  have  been,  it  is  true,  a  conse 
quence  not  so  much  of  the  will  of  Mr.  Jeiferson 
as  of  the  necessity  in  which  he  was  placed, 
ftluch  allowance  must  often  be  made  for  the 
'difficult  positions  of  our  public  statesmen.  He 
is  also  entitled  to  much  credit  for  his  voluntary 
efforts,  in  after  life,  to  repair  the  injury  he  must 
have  been  aware  he  had  committed.  This 
conduct,  on  his  part,  was  not  without  a  degree 
of  magnanimity,  which  may  have  its  use,  as  an 
example  to  future  political  rivals  in  America. 
There  will  doubtless  be  many  instances  in  our 
history,  in  which  the  victor  in  party  strife  will 
have  gained  much  by  fomenting  popular  preju 
dices  against  his  opponent ;  but  it  is  not  equally 
certain,  that  there  will  be  as  many,  in  which 
he  will  afterwards  endeavour  to  repair  the  injury 
done,  by  leaving  behind  him  upon  record  the 
amplest  testimonials  to  that  opponent's  public 
virtue. 


MEMOIR.  xx 

Tt  is  by  no  means  the  disposition  of  the  pres 
ent  writer  to  judge  with  an  undue  degree  of 
harshness.  But  no  duty  appears  to  him  more 
absolutely  incumbent  upon  all  who  address  the 
American  public  than  that  of  exercising  the 
faculty  of  clear,  moral  discrimination,  and  he 
should  have  felt  himself  deserving  of  censure 
if  he  had  omitted  to  attempt  it  to  this  extent 
upon  the  present  occasion. 

Mrs.  Adams  felt,  as  women  only  feel,  what 
she  regarded  as  the  ungenerous  conduct  of  Mr. 
Jefferson  towards  her  husband  during  the  latter 
part  of  his  public  life.  And  when  she  retired 
from  Washington,  notwithstanding  the  kindest 
professions  from  his  mouth  were  yet  ringing  in 
her  ears,  all  communication  between  the  parties 
ceased.  Still,  there  remained  on  both  sides, 
pleasant  reminiscences  to  soften  the  irritation 
that  had  taken  place,  and  to  open  a  way  for 
reconciliation  whenever  circumstances  should 
present  a  suitable  opportunity.  The  little 
daughter  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  in  whom  Mrs.  Ad 
ams  had  taken  so  much  interest  in  1787,  had  in 
the  interval  grown  into  a  woman,  and  had  been 
married  to  Mr.  Eppes,  of  Virginia.  In  1804  she 
ceased  to  be  numbered  among  the  living.  The 
intelligence  of  her  death  revived  all  the  kind 
feelings  that  had  long  been  smothered  in  the 
breast  of  Mrs.  Adams,  and  impelled  her,  almost 


MEMOIR. 

against  her  judgment,  to  pen  the  short  letter  of 
condolence  to  the  lady's  father  which  makes 
the  first  of  the  series  now  submitted  to  the 
public.  Mr.  Jefferson  appears  to  have  been 
much  affected  by  this  testimony  of  her  sympa 
thy.  He  replied,  but  not  confining  himself 
to  the  subject  matter  of  her  letter,  he  added 
a  request  to  know  her  reasons  for  the  estrange 
ment  that  had  occurred.  These  reasons  were 
given  in  the  letters  that  follow,  now  and  then 
betraying  a  little  of  the  asperity  to  which 
the  contest  had  given  birth  on  each  side.  The 
correspondence  ended  without  entire  satisfac 
tion  to  either.  It  appears,  from  Mr.  Jefferson's 
statement,  afterwards  made  in  a  letter  to  Dr. 
Rush,  that  he  did  not  choose  at  first  to  believe 
Mrs.  Adams's  assertion  that  she  had  written  to 
him  without  the  knowledge  of  her  husband. 
It  further  appears,  that  without  any  new  evi 
dence  upon  which  to  found  a  change  of  opinion, 
he  afterwards  convinced  himself  that  what  she 
had  written  was  true.  Fortunately,  the  origi 
nal  endorsement,  made  in  the  handwriting  of 
Mr.  Adams,  upon  the  copy  of  the  last  of  the 
letters  retained  by  herself,  will  serve  to  put  this 
matter  beyond  question.  Readers  will  be  apt 
to  judge  of  the  reasoning  contained  in  the 
correspondence,  according  to  the  political  pre 
possessions  they  may  happen  to  entertain. 


MEMOIR.  Ixxiii 

But  whichsoever  way  they  may  incline,  one 
thing  they  will  all  be  glad  to  know,  and  of  that 
they  may  be  assured,  namely,  that  the  argu 
ment  of  Mrs.  Adams  was  entirely  her  own.  If 
it  were  not  for  this  certainty,  a  great  deduction 
would  be  necessary  from  the  interest  that  must 
now  be  felt  in  her  part  of  the  correspondence. 
As  the  letters  of  a  man,  trained  in  the  discipline 
and  the  logic  of  the  schools,  they  would  make 
but  a  poor  figure  against  the  plausible  and 
adroit  special  pleading  of  the  opposing  party ; 
but  when  viewed  as  the  simple  offspring  of  good 
sense  and  right  feeling,  combining  in  a  woman 
to  form  just  as  well  as  straight-forward  conclu 
sions  upon  the  most  difficult  public  questions, 
they  are  not  without  their  value,  even  though 
set  in  contrast  to  the  polished  productions  of  so 
celebrated  a  writer  as  Mr.  Jefferson. 

It  has  been  already  remarked,  that  the  cor 
respondence  ended  without  appearing  to  pro 
duce  any  favourable  effect  in  restoring  the 
parties  to  their  pristine  cordiality.  The  prin 
cipal  reason  for  this,  probably  was,  that  Mr. 
Jefferson  was  still  President  of  the  United 
States  ;  and  that  a  change  then  brought  about 
in  consequence  of  a  step  first  taken  by  Mrs. 
Adams,  might  have  subjected  her  conduct  to  the 
possibility  of  misconstruction.  This  her  spirit 
would  never  have  willingly  submitted  to.  Per- 


XXIV  MEMOIR. 

haps  the  same  consideration  had  its  effect  upon 
the  general  tone  of  her  letters,  which  is  not  so 
conciliatory,  as  from  other  parts  of  her  character, 
one  might  be  led  to  expect.  It  was  felt  to  be  not 
so  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  who  considered  it  as  hav 
ing  interposed  a  new  barrier  to  reconciliation, 
rather  than  as  having  removed  the  old  ones. 
But  such  did  not  prove  its  ultimate  effect. 
The  parties  relapsed  into  silence  for  a  time,  it 
is  true,  but  there  is  evidence  that  they  began 
again  to  think  kindly  of  each  other.  And 
when  they  had  come  once  more  upon  equal 
terms,  by  the  retirement  of  Mr.  Jefferson  from 
public  life,  Dr.  Rush,  a  common  friend,  found 
no  great  difficulty  in  removing  all  obstacles  to 
a  renewed  communication.  A  correspondence 
was  again  established  which  gradually  improved 
into  something  of  the  ancient  kindliness.  But 
Mrs.  Adams  appears  to  have  taken  no  part  in 
it ;  and  it  may  be  doubted  whether  it  was  before 
the  beautiful  letter1  of  condolence,  written  to 
him  by  Mr.  Jefferson  upon  the  news  of  her 
decease,  that  the  heart  of  Mr.  Adams  softened 

1  Perhaps  there  is  not,  among  all  the  productions  of 
Mr.  Jefferson,  a  more  graceful  and  delicate  specimen  of 
his  style  than  this  short  letter.  As  connected  with  the 
present  subject,  it  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader 
to  find  it  appended  to  the  close  of  this  Memoir. 


MEMOIR.  LxXV 

into  perfect  cordiality  towards  his  ancient  and 
his  successful  opponent. 

From  the  year  1801  down  to  the  day  of  her 
death,  wjaich  }^^eu^^^Jj[i^2Bib^i  October, 
1§18,  she  remained  uninterruptedly  at  home  in 
Ghiincy.  This  period  furnishes  abundance  of 
familiar  letters.  Her  interest  in  public  affairs 
did  not  cease  with  the  retirement  of  her  hus 
band.  She  continued  to  write  to  her  friends 
her  free  opinions,  both  of  men  and  measures, 
perhaps  with  a  more  sustained  hand  on  account 
of  the  share  her  son  was  then  taking  in  politics. 
But  these  letters  bring  us  down  to  times  so 
recent,  and  they  contain  so  many  allusions  to 
existing  persons  and  matters  of  a  domestic  and 
wholly  private  nature,  that  they  are  not  deemed 
suitable  for  publication,  at  least  at  present.  On 
some  accounts,  this  is  perhaps  to  be  regretted. 
None  of  her  letters  present  a  more  agreeable 
picture  of  life,  or  a  more  characteristic  idea  of 
their  author,  than  these.  Thp  rfA  ag^  nf  Mrg 

Adams   was   rint.    rmp.   nf  gripf  aiKlLiepining^  of 

clouds  pnrl  darkness.  Her  cheerfulness  con 
tinued,  with  the  full  possession  of  her  faculties, 
to  the  last ;  and  her  sunny  spirit  enlivened  the 
small  social  circle  around  her,  brightened  the 
solitary  hours  of  her  husband,  and  spread  the 
influence  of  its  example  over  the  town  where 
she  lived.  "  Yesterday,"  she  writes  to  a  grand- 


MEMOIR. 

daughter  on  the  26th  of  October,  1814,  "yes 
terday  completes  half  a  century  since  I  entered 
the  married  state,  then  just  your  age.  I  have 
great  cause  of  thankfulness,  that  I  have  lived 
so  long,  and  enjoyed  so  large  a  portion  of  hap 
piness  as  has  been  my  lot.  The  greatest  source 
of  unhappiness  I  have  known  in  that  period 
has  arisen  from  the  long  and  cruel  separations, 
which  I  was  called,  in  a  time  of  war  and  with 
a  young  family  around  me,  to  submit  to."  Yet 
she  had  not  been  without  her  domestic  afflic 
tions.  A  daughter  lost  in  infancy ;  a  son  grown 
up  to  manhood,  who  died  in  1800  ;  and  thirteen 
years  afterwards,  the  death  of  her  only  remain 
ing  daughter,  the  wife  of  Colonel  W.  S.  Smith, 
furnished  causes  of  deep  and  severe  grief,  which 
threw  a  shadow  of  sadness  over  the  evening  of 
her  life.  'But  they  produced  no  permanent 
gloom,  nor  did  they  prevent  her  from  enjoying 
the  consolations  to  be  found  in  gratitude  to  the 
Divine  Being  for  the  blessings  that  still  remained 
1  to  her.  She  was  rewarded  for  the  painful  sep 
aration  from  her  eldest  son,  when  he  went 
abroad  in  the  public  service  under  circumstan 
ces  which  threatened  a  long  absence,  by  sur 
viving  the  whole  period  of  eight  years  that  it 
lasted,  and  witnessing  his  return  to  receive  from 
the  Chief  Magistrate  elect,  Mr.  Monroe,  the 
highest  testimony  he  could  give  him  of  his 


MEMOIR. 


confidence.  This  was  the  fulfilment  of  the 
wish  nearest  to  her  heart.  The  letters  addressed 
to  him  when  a  youth,  which  have  been  admit 
ted  into  this  volume,  will  abundantly  show  the 
deep  interest  she  had  felt  in  his  success.  His 
nom  i  nation  as  Se£r£ta£y~o£-S4ate  wa&  the-efown- 
of  her  -life.  Had  she  survived  the 


attack  of  the  fever  which  proved  fatal,  it  is  true 
that  she  might  have  seen  him  exalted  still 
higher,  to  that  station  which  her  husband  and 
his  father  had  held  before  him  ;  but  it  is  very 
doubtful  whether  her  satisfaction  would  have 
been  at  all  enhanced.  The  commencement  of 
Mr.  Monroe's  administration  was  marked  by  a 
unanimity  of  the  popular  voice,  the  more  grati 
fying  to  her  because  it  was  something  so  new. 
Later  times  have  only  carried  us  back  to  party 
divisions,  of  the  bitterness  of  which  she  had 
during  her  lifetime  tasted  too  largely  to  relish 
even  the  little  of  sweet  which  they  might  have 
to  give. 

The  obsequies  of  Mrs.  Adams  were  attended 
by  a  great  concourse  of  people,  who  voluntarily 
came  to  pay  this  last  tribute  to  her  memory.  Sev 
eral  brief  but  beautiful  notices  of  her  appeared 
in  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  and  a  sermon  was 
preached  by  the  late  Reverend  Dr.  Kirkland, 
then  President  of  Harvard  University,  which 
closed  with  a  delicate  and  affecting  testimony  to 


Ixxviii  MEMOIR. 

her  worth.  "  Ye  will  seek  to  mourn,  bereaved 
friends,"  it  says,  "  as  becomes  Christians,  in  a 
manner  worthy  of  the  person  you  lament.  You 
do,  then,  bless  the  Giver  of  life,  that  the 
course  of  your  endeared  and  honored  friend 
was  so  long  and  so  bright ;  that  she  entered  so 
fully  into  the  spirit  of  those  injunctions  which 
we  have  explained,  and  was  a  minister  of  bless 
ings  to  all  within  her  influence.  You  are  sooth 
ed  to  reflect,  that  she  was  sensible  of  the  many 
tokens  of  divine  goodness  which  marked  her 
lot;  that  she  received  the  good  of  her  existence 
with  a  cheerful  and  grateful  heart;  that,  when 
called  to  weep,  she  bore  adversity  with  an 
equal  mind ;  that  she  used  the  world  as  not 
abusing  it  to  excess,  improving  well  her  time, 
talents,  and  opportunities,  and,  though  desired 
longer  in  this  world,  was  fitted  for  a  better  hap 
piness  than  this  world  can  give." 

It  often  happens,  that,  when  the  life  of  a 
woman  is  the  topic  of  discussion,  men  think  it 
necessary  either  to  fall  into  a  tone  of  affected  gal 
lantry  and  unmeaning  compliment,  or  to  assume 
the  extreme  of  unnatural  and  extravagant  eulo 
gy.  Yet  there  seems  no  reason,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  why  the  same  laws  of  composition 
should  not  be  made  to  apply  to  the  one  sex  as 
to  the  other.  It  has  been  the  wish  of  the  Ed 
itor  to  avoid  whatever  might  be  considered  as 


MEMOIR.  Ixxix 

mere  empty  praise  of  his  subject,  in  which,  if 
he  has  not  altogether  succeeded,  some  allow 
ance  may,  it  is  hoped,  be  made  for  the  natural 
bias  under  which  he  writes.  It  has  been  his 
purpose  to  keep  far  within  the  line  marked  out 
by  the  great  master  of  composition,  who,  in  al 
lusion  to  the  first  instance  in  Rome  when  a 
woman,  Popilia,  was  publicly  praised  by  her 
son  Catulus,  defines  the  topics  which  may  be 
treated  with  propriety  upon  any  similar  occa 
sion.1  He  does  not  claim  for  the  letters  now 
published  to  the  world,  that  they  are  models  of 

1  "  Ex  his  enim  fontibus,  uncle  omnia  ornate  dicendi 
praecepta  sumuntur,  licebit  etiam  laudationem  ornare, 
neque  ilia  elementa  desiderare ;  quse  ut  nemo  tradat,  quis 
est,  qui  nesciat,  quse  sint  in  homine  laudanda?  Positis 
enim  iis  rebus,  quas  Crassus  in  illius  orationis  suae, 
quam  contra  collegam  censor  habuit,  principle  dixit; 
'  Qua3  natura  aut  fortuna  darentur  hominibus,  in  iis  rebus, 
se  vinci  posse  ammo  cequo  pati :  qu&  ipsi  sibi  homines  parare 
possent,  in  iis  rebus  se  pati  vinci  non  posse;'  qui  laudabit 
quempiarn,  intelliget,  exponenda  sibi  esse  fortunae  bona. 
Ea  sunt,  generis,  pecuniae,  propinquorum,  amicorum, 
opum,  valetudinis,  formae,  virium,  ingenii,  caeterarumque 
rerum,  quae  sunt  aut  corporis,  aut  extranese  :  si  habuerit, 
bene  his  usum :  si  non  habuerit,  sapienter  caruisse :  si 
amiserit,  moderate  tulisse.  Deinde,  quid  sapienter  is, 
quern  laudet,  quid  liberaliter,  quid  fortiter,  quid  juste, 
quid  magnifice,  quid  pie,  quid  grate,  quid  humaniter,  quid 
denique  cum  aliqua  virtute,  aut  fecerit  aut  tulerit" — 
Cicera,  de  Oratore,  II.  11. 


1XXX  MEMOIR. 

style,  though  in  behalf  of  some  of  them  such  a 
claim  might,  perhaps,  be  reasonably  urged; 
nor  yet  that  they  contain  much  novel  or  impor 
tant  historical  information.  What  merit  they 
may  have  will  be  found  in  the  pictures  of  social 
life  which  they  present,  during  a  period  daily 
becoming  more  interesting  as  it  recedes  from  us, 
and  in  the  high  moral  and  religious  tone  which 
uniformly  pervades  them.  They  are  here  given 
to  the  public  exactly  as  they  were  written,  with 
only  those  corrections  or  omissions  which  were 
absolutely  necessary  either  to  perfect  the  sense, 
or  to  avoid  subjects  exclusively  personal.  It  was 
the  habit  of  the  writer  to  make  first  a  rough 
draft  of  what  she  intended  to  say,  and  from 
this  to  form  a  fair  copy  for  her  correspondent ; 
but  in  the  process  she  altered  so  much  of  the 
original,  that,  in  every  instance  where  the  two 
have  been  compared,  they  are  by  no  means  thje 
same  thing.  Only  in  one  or  two  cases,  and  for 
particular  reasons,  has  the  loss  of  the  real  letter 
been  supplied  by  the  first  draft.  The  principal 
difference  between  them  ordinarily  is,  that  the 
former  is  much  the  most  full.  Frequently,  it 
will  be  seen  that  she  did  not  copy,  the  task 
being,  as  she  testifies  in  the  postcript,  extremely 
irksome  to  her. 

The  value  attached  to  her  letters  by  some  of 
her  correspondents,  even  during  her  lifetime, 


MEMOIR. 

was  so  considerable,  that  it  produced  from  one 
of  them,  the  late  Judge  Vanderkemp  of  New 
York,  a  request  that  a  collection  should  then  be 
made  for  publication.  In  allusion  to  this,  Mrs. 
Adams  writes  in  a  note  to  a  female  friend  ; 

tl  The  President  has  a  letter  from  Vander 
kemp,  in  which  he  proposes  to  have  him  send  a 
collection  of  my  letters  to  publish  !  A  pretty 
figure  I  should  make.  No.  No.  I  have  not 
any  ambition  to  appear  in  print.  Heedless 
and  inaccurate  as  I  am,  I  have  too  much  van 
ity  to  risk  my  reputation  before  the  public." 

And,  on  the  same  day,  she  replied  to  Judge 
Vanderkemp  as  follows ; 


"  Quincy,  24  January,  1818. 

President  Monroe  was  in  Boston,  upon 
his  late  tour,  encompassed  by  citizens,  sur 
rounded  by  the  military,  harassed  by  invita 
tions  to  parties,  and  applications  innumerable 
for  office,  some  gentleman  asked  him  if  he  was 
not  completely  worn  out?  To  which  he  replied, 
£  O  no.  A  little  flattery  will  support  a  man 
through  great  fatigue.'  I  may  apply  the  obser 
vation  to  myself  and  say,  that  the  flattery  in 
your  letter  leads  me  to  break  through  the  aver- 

VOL.    I.  F 


MEMOIR. 

sion,  which  is  daily  increasing  upon  me,  to 
writing. 

"You  terrify  me,  my  dear  Sir,  when  you 
ask  for  letters  of  mine  to  publish.  It  is  true, 
that  Dr.  Disney,  to  whom  the  late  Mr.  Hollis 
bequeathed  his  property,  found  amongst  his  pa 
pers  some  letters  from  the  President  and  from 
me,  which  he  asked  permission  to  publish. 
We  had  both  forgotten  the  contents  of  them, 
but  left  them  to  his  judgment  to  do  with  them 
as  he  pleased,  and  accordingly  he  published 
some  of  them.  One  other  letter  to  my  son, 
when  he  first  went  to  France  in  the  year  1778, 
by  some  means  or  other,  was  published  in  an 
English  Magazine  ;  and  those,  I  believe,  are  all 
the  mighty  works  of  mine,  which  ever  have, 
or  will,  by  my  consent,  appear  before  the  pub 
lic.  Style  I  never  studied.  My  language  is 

'  Warm  from  the  heart,  and  faithful  to  its  fires,' 

the  spontaneous  effusions  of  friendship.  As 
such  I  tender  them  to  Mr.  Yanderkemp,  sure 
of  his  indulgence,  since  I  make  no  pretensions 
to  the  character  which  he  professes  to  fear,  that 
of  a  learned  lady." 

These  observations  are  strictly  true.  To 
learning,  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that  term, 
Mrs.  Adams  could  make  no  claim.  Her  read- 


MEMOIR.  Ixxxiii 

ing  had  been  extensive  in  the  lighter  departments 
of  literature,  and  she  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  poets  in  her  'own  language  ;  but  it 
went  no  further.  Itjs  the  soul,  shining  jJrr_Qngh 
.  tliemjhei_r^great__attrac- 


tion  ;  the  spirit,  ever  equal  to  the  occasion, 
whether  a  great  or  a  small  one  •  —  a  spirit,  in- 
qui&tisfi_ajDji.fiams§tJn  the  little  details  of.  life, 
as  when  she  was  in  France  and  England  ; 
playful,  when  she  describes  daily  duties  ;  *  but 
rising  to.  .Jthe...  call,  when  the  roar  of  cannon 
is  in_lier  ears,2  —  or  when  she  reproves  her  hus-1. 
band  for  not  knowing  her  better  than  to  think  j 
her  a  coward  and  to  fear  telling  her  bad  news,3 
—  or  when  she  warns  her  son,  that  she  "  would 
rather  he  had  found  his  grave  in  the  ocean,  or 
that  any  untimely  death  should  crop  him  in  his 
infant  years,  than  see  him  an  immoral,  profli 
gate,  or  graceless  child."  4 

In  conclusion,  and  in  order  to  avoid  the 
possibility  of  misconstruction,  it  is  proper  to 
state,  that  for  the  selection  which  has  now 
been  made,  and  for  the  sentiments  expressed 
by  the  Editor,  he  is  exclusively  responsible. 
He  has  consulted  with  no  person  in  the  pro 
gress  of  his  duty  ;  hence,  if  it  should  be  thought 


1  Letter,  19  November,  1812.        *  Vol.  I.  pages  88-92. 
3  Vol.  I.  page  107.  4  Vol.  I.  page  123. 


MEMOIR. 

that  errors  of  judgment  have  been  committed, 
the  fault  must  he  held  to  lie  wholly  with  him. 
The  individuals  in  whose  hands  are  the  letters, 
from  which  this  compilation  has  been  made, 
furnished  them  to  him  at  his  request,  without 
limitation  or  restriction;  for  which  manifesta 
tion  of  their  confidence  in  him,  he  begs  leave  thus 
publicly  to  express  his  gratitude.  Among  those 
persons,  he  would  make  known  his  obligations 
particularly  to  Mrs.  John  Greenleaf,  of  Quincy, 
and  Mrs.  Felt,  of  Boston,  respectively  daugh 
ters  of  the  two  sisters  of  Mrs.  Adams ;  Mrs.  C. 
A.  De  Wint,  of  Fishkill,  New  York,  the  daugh 
ter  of  Mrs.  W.  S.  Smith ;  and  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Quincy,  of  Cambridge.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  add,  that  to  his  father,  John  Quincy  Adams, 
and  to  the  widow  of  his  uncle,  the  late  Judge 
Thomas  B.  Adams,  he  is  indebted  for  the  op 
portunity  of  freely  examining  and  using  the 
great  mass  of  papers  in  their  possession.  It 
was  the  fortune  of  the  Editor  to  know  the  sub 
ject  of  his  Memoir  only  during  the  last  year  of 
her  life,  and  when  he  was  too  young  fully  to 
comprehend  the  worth  of  her  character  ;  but  it 
will  be  a  source  of  unceasing  gratification  to 
him  as  long  as  he  lives,  that  he  has  been  per 
mitted  to  pay  this  small  tribute,  however  inade 
quate,  to  her  memory. 


NOTE. — The  following  letter  is  the  one  alluded  to  in  the 
Note  to  page  Ixxiv  of  this  Memoir. 


THOMAS    JEFFERSON    TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Monticello,  13  November,  1818. 

THE  public  papers,  my  dear  friend,  announce 
the  fatal  event  of  which  your  letter  of  October 
the  20th  had  given  me  ominous  foreboding. 
Tried  myself  in  the  school  of  affliction,  by  the 
loss  of  every  form  of  connexion  which  can  rive 
the  human  heart,  I  know  well,  and  feel  what 
you  have  lost,  what  you  have  suffered,  are 
suffering,  and  have  yet  to  endure.  The  same 
trials  have  taught  me,  that  for  ills  so  immeasur 
able,  time  and  silence  are  the  only  medicine. 
I  will  not  therefore,  by  useless  condolences,  open 
afresh  the  sluices  of  your  grief,  nor,  although 
mingling  sincerely^  my  tears  with  yours,  will  I 
say  a  word  more  where  words  are  vain ;  but 
that  it  is  of  some  comfort  to  us  both,  that  the 
term  is  not  very  distant,  at  which  we  are  to 
deposit  in  the  same  cerement  our  sorrows  and 


MEMOIR. 

suffering  bodies,  and  to  ascend  in  essence  to  an 
ecstatic  meeting  with  the  friends  we  have  loved 
and  lost,  and  whom  we  shall  still  love  and 
never  lose  again. 

God  bless  you  and  support  you  under  your 
heavy  affliction. 

TH  :  JEFFERSON. 


LETTERS . 


VOL.   I. 


LETTERS. 


TO    MRS.    H.    LINCOLN.1 

Weymouth,  5  October,  1761. 

MY    DEAR    FRIEND, 

DOES  not  my  friend  think  me  a  stupid  girl,  when 
she  has  kindly  offered  to  correspond  with  me,  that 
I  should  be  so  senseless  as  not  to  accept  the  offer  ? 
Senseless  and  stupid  I  would  confess  myself,  and 
that  to  the  greatest  degree,  if  I  did  not  foresee  the 
many  advantages  I  shall  receive  from  corresponding 
with  a  lady  of  your  known  prudence  and  under 
standing. 

I  gratefully  accept  your  offer  ;  although  I  may  be 
charged  with  vanity  in  pretending  to  entertain  you 
with  my  scrawls  ;  yet  I  know  your  generosity  is  such, 

1  For  this  letter  I  have  to  acknowledge  myself  indebted  to 
the  kindness  of  Miss  E.  S.  Quincy,  a  grand-niece  of  the  lady 
to  whom  it  was  addressed.  After  the  death  of  Dr.  Lincoln 
she  was  married  to  Ebenezer  Storer,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  and  died 
only  a  few  years  ago. 


4  LETTERS. 

that,  like  a  kind  parent,  you  will  bury  in  oblivion 
&11  my  imperfections.  I  do  not  aim  at  entertaining. 
I  write  merely  for  the  instruction  and  edification 
which  I  shall  receive,  provided  you  honor  me  with 
your  correspondence. 

Your  letter  I  received,  and,  believe  me,  it  has  not 
been  through  forgetfulness,  that  I  have  not  before 
this  time  returned  you  my  sincere  thanks  for  the  kind 
assurance  you  then  gave  me  of  continued  friendship. 
You  have,  I  hope,  pardoned  my  suspicions  ;  they 
arose  from  love.  What  persons  in  their  right  senses 
would  calmly,  and  without  repining  or  even  inquiring 
into  the  cause,  submit  to  lose  their  greatest  temporal 
good  and  happiness  ?  for  thus  the  divine,  Dr.  Young, 
looks  upon  a  true  friend,  when  he  says, 

"  A  friend  is  worth  all  hazards  we  can  run. 
Poor  is  the  friendless  master  of  a  world  ; 
A  worfd  in  purchase  for  a  friend  is  gain." 

Who,  that  has  once  been  favored  with  your  friend 
ship,  can  be  satisfied  with  the  least  diminution  of  it  ? 
Not  those  who  value  it  according  to  its  worth. 

You  have,  like  king  Ahasuerus,  held  forth,  though 
not  a  golden  sceptre,  yet  one  more  valuable,  the 
sceptre  of  friendship,  if  I  may  so  call  it.  Like  Es 
ther,  I  would  draw  nigh  and  touch  it.  WTill  you 
proceed  and  say,  "  What  wilt  thou  ?  "  and  "  What 
is  thy  request  ?  it  shall  be  even  given  thee  to  the 
half  of  my  heart."  Why,  no.  I  think  I  will  not 
have  so  dangerous  a  present,  lest  your  good  man 
should  find  it  out  and  challenge  me  ;  but,  if  you 


LETTERS.  5 

please,  I  '11  have  a  place  in  one  corner  of  it,  a  place 
well  guarded  and  fortified,  or  still  I  shall  fear  being 
jostled  out  by  him.  Now  do  not  deny  my  request 
on  purpose  to  make  me  feel  the  weight  of  your 
observation,  "  that  we  are  often  disappointed  when 
we  set  our  minds  upon  that  which  is  to  yield  us 
great  happiness."  I  know  it  too  well  already.  Daily 
experience  teaches  me  that  truth. 

And  now  let  me  ask  you,  my  friend,  whether  you 
do  not  think,  that  many  of  our  disappointments  and 
much  of  our  unhappiness  arise  from  our  forming 
false  notions  of  things  and  persons.  We  strangely 
impose  upon  ourselves  ;  we  create  a  fairy  land  of 
happiness.  Fancy  is  fruitful  and  promises  fair,  but, 
like  the  dog  in  the  fable,  we  catch  at  a  shadow,  and 
when  we  find  the  disappointment,  we  are  vexed,  not 
with  ourselves,  who  are  really  the  impostors,  but  with 
the  poor,  innocent  thing  or  person  of  whom  we  have 
formed  such  strange  ideas.  When  this  is  the  case, 
I  believe  we  always  find,  that  we  have  enjoyed  more 
pleasure  in  the  anticipation  than  in  the  real  enjoy 
ment  of  our  wishes. 

Dr.  Young  says,  "  Our  wishes  give  us  not  our 
wishes."  Some  disappointments  are,  indeed,  more 
grievous  than  others.  Since  they  are  our  lot,  let  us 
bear  them  with  patience.  That  person,  that  cannot 
bear  a  disappointment,  must  not  live  in  a  world  so 
changeable  as  this,  and  't  is  wise  it  should  be  so  ;  for, 
were  we  to  enjoy  a  continual  prosperity,  we  should 
be  too  firmly  attached  to  the  world  ever  to  think  of 
quitting  it,  and  there  would  be  room  to  fear,  that  we 


b  LETTERS. 

should  be  so  far  intoxicated  with  prosperity  as  to 
swim  smoothly  from  joy  to  joy,  along  life's  short  cur 
rent,  wholly  unmindful  of  the  vast  ocean,  Eternity. 

If  I  did  not  know  that  it  would  be  adding  to  the 
length  of  my  letter,  I  might  make  some  excuse  for 
it ;  but  that  and  another  reason  will  hinder  me. 

You  bid  me  tell  one  of  my  sparks  (I  think  that 
was  the  word)  to  bring  me  to  see  you.  Why  !  I 
believe  you  think  they  are  as  plenty  as  herrings, 
when,  alas  !  there  is  as  great  a  scarcity  of  them  as 
there  is  of  justice,  honesty,  prudence,  and  many 
other  virtues.  I  've  no  pretensions  to  one.  Wealth, 
wealth  is  the  only  thing  that  is  looked  after  now. 
'T  is  said  Plato  thought,  if  Virtue  would  appear  to 
the  world,  all  mankind  would  be  enamoured  with 
her,  but  now  interest  governs  the  world  and  men 
neglect  the  golden  mean. 

But,  to  be  sober,  I  should  really  rejoice  to  come 
and  see  you,  but  if  I  wait  till  I  get  a  (what  did  you 
call  'em  ?)  I  fear  you  '11  be  blind  with  age. 

I  can  say,  in  the  length  of  this  epistle,  I  've  made 
the  golden  rule  mine.  Pray,  my  friend,  do  not  let  it 
be  long  before  you  write  to  your  ever  affectionate 

A.  S. 

P.  S.  My  regards  to  your  good  man.  I  've  no 
acquaintance  with  him,  but  if  you  love  him,  I  do, 
and  should  be  glad  to  see  him. 


LETTERS. 


TO    JOHN  ADAMS. 1 

Wey  mouth,  16  April,  1764. 

MY  FRIEND, 

I  THixK  I  write  to  you  every  day.  Shall  not  I  make 
my  letters  very  cheap  ?  Don't  you  light  your  pipe 
with  them  ?  I  care  not  if  you  do.  'T  is  a  pleasure 
to  me  to  write.  Yet  I  wonder  I  write  to  you  with 
so  little  restraint,  for  as  a  critic  I  fear  you  more  than 
any  other  person  on  earth,  and  't  is  the  only  charac 
ter  in  which  I  ever  did  or  ever  will  fear  you.  What 
say  you  ?  Do  you  approve  of  that  speech  ?  Don't 
you  think  me  a  courageous  being  ?  Courage  is  a 
laudable,  a  glorious  virtue  in  your  sex,  why  not  in 
mine  ?  For  my  part,  I  think  you  ought  to  applaud 
me  for  mine. 

Exit  Rattle. 

Solus  your  Diana. 

And  now,  pray  tell  me,  how  you  do  ?  Do  you 
feel  any  venom  working  in  your  veins  ?  Did  you 
ever  before  experience  such  a  feeling  ?  (This  letter 
will  be  made  up  with  questions,  I  fancy,  not  set  in 
order  before  you,  neither.)  How  do  you  employ 
yourself  ?  Do  you  go  abroad  yet  ?  Is  it  not  cruel 
to  bestow  those  favors  upon  others,  which  I  should 
rejoice  to  receive,  yet  must  be  deprived  of  ? 

1  Mr.  Adams  was  in  Boston,  undergoing  the  process,  then 
in  vogue,  of  inoculation  with  the  smallpox. 


8  LETTERS. 

I  have  lately  been  thinking  whether  my  mamma 
—  when  I  write  again  I  will  tell  you  something. 
Did  not  you  receive  a  letter  to-day  by  Hannes  ? 

This  is  a  right  girl's  letter,  —  but  I  will  turn  to 
the  other  side  and  be  sober,  if  I  can. 

But  what  is  bred  in  the  bone  will  never  be  out  of 
the  flesh,  (as  Lord  M.  would  have  said.) 

As  I  have  a  good  opportunity  to  send  some  milk, 
I  have  not  waited  for  your  orders,  lest,  if  I  should 
miss  this,  I  should  not  catch  such  another.  If  you 
want  more  balm,  I  can  supply  you. 

Adieu;  —  evermore  remember  me  with  the  ten- 
derest  affection,  which  is  also  borne  unto  you  by 
your 

A.  SMITH. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 


Thursday  Eve.  Weymouth,  19  April,  1764. 
WHY,  my  good  man,  thou  hast  the  curiosity  of  a  girl. 
Who  could  have  believed,  that  only  a  slight  hint 
would  have  set  thy  imagination  agog  in  such  a  man 
ner.  And  a  fine  encouragement  I  have  to  unravel 
the  mystery  as  thou  callest  it.  Nothing  less,  truly, 
than  to  be  told  something  to  my  disadvantage.  What 
an  excellent  reward  that  will  be  !  In  what  court  of 
justice  didst  thou  learn  that  equity  ?  I  thank  thee, 
friend  ;  such  knowledge  as  that  is  easy  enough  to  be 
obtained  without  paying  for  it.  As  to  the  insinua- 


LETTERS.  y 

tion,  it  doth  not  give  me  any  uneasiness  ;  for,  if  it  is 
any  thing  very  bad,  I  know  thou  dost  not  believe  it. 
I  am  net  conscious  of  any  harm  that  I  have  done  or 
wished  to  any  mortal.  I  bear  no  malice  to  any 
being.  To  my  enemies,  if  any  I  have,  I  am  willing 
to  afford  assistance  ;  therefore  towards  man  I  main 
tain  a  conscience  void  of  offence. 

Yet  by  this  I  mean  not  that  I  am  faultless.  But 
tell  me  what  is  the  reason,  that  persons  would  rather 
acknowledge  themselves  guilty  than  be  accused  by 
others  ?  Is  it  because  they  are  more  tender  of  them 
selves,  or  because  they  meet  with  more  favor  from 
others  when  they  ingenuously  confess  ?  Let  that  be 
as  it  will,  there  is  something  which  makes  it  more 
agreeable  to  condemn  ourselves  than  to  be  con 
demned  by  others. 

But,  although  it  is  vastly  disagreeable  to  be  ac 
cused  of  faults,  yet  no  person  ought  to  be  offended 
when  such  accusations  are  delivered  in  the  spirit  of 
friendship.  I  now  call  upon  you  to  fulfil  your  prom 
ise,  and  tell  me  all  my  faults  both  of  omission  and 
commission,  and  all  the  evil  you  either  know  or 
think  of  me.  Be  to  me  a  second  conscience,  nor 
put  me  off  to  a  more  convenient  season.  There  can 
be  no  time  more  proper  than  the  present.  It  will  be 
harder  to  erase  them  when  habit  has  strengthened 
and  confirmed  them.  Do  not  think  I  trifle.  These 
are  really  meant  as  words  of  truth  and  soberness, 
For  the  present,  good  night. 


N 


10  LETTERS. 

Friday  Morning,  April  20th. 

What  does  it  signify  ?  Why  may  not  I  visit  you 
days  as  well  as  nights  ?  I  no  sooner  close  my  eyes, 
than  some  invisible  being,  swift  as  the  Alborack  of 
Mahomet,  bears  me  to  you,  —  I  see  you,  but  cannot 
make  myself  visible  to  you.  That  tortures  me,  but 
it  is  still  worse  when  I  do  not  come,  for  I  am  then 
haunted  by  half  a  dozen  ugly  sprites.  One  will 
catch  me  and  leap  into  the  sea  ;  another  will  carry 
me  up  a  precipice  like  that  which  Edgar  describes 
in  Lear,  then  toss  rne  down,  and,  were  I  not  then 
light  as  the  gossamer,  I  should  shiver  into  atoms ; 
another  will  be  pouring  down  my  throat  stuff  worse 
than  the  witches'  broth  in  Macbeth.  Where  I  shall 
be  carried  next  I  know  not,  but  I  would  rather  have 
the  smallpox  by  inoculation  half  a  dozen  times  than 
be  sprited  about  as  I  am.  What  say  you  ?  Can 
you  give  me  any  encouragement  to  come  ?  By  the 
time  you  receive  this  I  hope  from  experience  you 
will  be  able  to  say,  that  the  distemper  is  but  a  trifle. 
Think  you  I  would  not  endure  a  trifle  for  the  pleas 
ure  of  seeing  you  ?  Yes,  were  it  ten  times  that 
trifle,  I  would.  But  my  own  inclinations  must  not 
be  followed,  —  to  duty  I  sacrifice  them.  Yet,  O  my 
mamma,  forgive  me  if  I  say,  you  have  forgot  or 

never  knew but  hush,  and  do  you   excuse  me 

that  something  I  promised  you,  since  it  was  a  speech 
more  undutiful  than  that  which  I  just  now  stopped 
myself  in.  For  the  present,  good  bye. 


LETTERS.  11 

Friday  Evening. 

I  hope  you  smoke  your  letters  well,  before  you 
deliver  them.  Mamma  is  so  fearful  lest  I  should 
catch  the  distemper,  that  she  hardly  ever  thinks  the 
letters  are  sufficiently  purified.  Did  you  never  rob  a 
bird's  nest  ?  Do  you  remember  how  the  poor  bird 
would  fly  round  and  round,  fearful  to  come  nigh,  yet 
not  know  how  to  leave  the  place  ?  Just  so  they  say 
I  hover  round  Tom,  whilst  he  is  smoking  my  letters. 

But  heyday,  Mr.  What's  your  name,  who  taught 
you  to  threaten  so  vehemently  ?  "  A  character  be 
sides  that  of  a  critic,  in  which  if  I  never  did,  I  always 
hereafter  shall  fear  you."  Thou  canst  not  prove  a 
villain,  impossible,  —  I,  therefore,  still  insist  upon  it, 
that  I  neither  do  nor  can  fear  thee.  For  my  part,  I 
know  not  that  there  is  any  pleasure  in  being  feared  ; 
but,  if  there  is,  I  hope  you  will  be  so  generous  as  to 
fear  your  Diana,  that  she  may  at  least  be  made  sen 
sible  of  the  pleasure.  Mr.  Ayers  will  bring  you  this 
letter  and  the  lag.  Do  not  repine,  —  it  is  filled  with 
balm. 

Here  is  love,  respects,  regards,  good  wishes  —  a 
whole  wagon  load  of  them,  sent  you  from  all  the 
good  folks  in  the  neighbourhood. 

To-morrow  makes  the  fourteenth  day.  How  many 
more  are  to  come  ?  I  dare  not  trust  myself  with 
the  thought.  Adieu.  Let  me  hear  from  you  by 
Mr.  Ayers,  and  excuse  this  very  bad  writing  ;  if 
you  had  mended  my  pen  it  would  have  been  better. 
Once  more,  adieu.  Gold  and  silver  have  I  none, 


12  LETTERS. 

but  such  as  I  have  give  I  unto  thee, —  which  is  the 
affectionate  regard  of  your 

A.  S. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 
Weymouth,  Sunday  Evening,  14  September,  17G7. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

THE  Doctor  talks  of  setting  out  to-morrow  for  New 
Braintree.  I  did  not  know  but  that  he  might  chance 
to  see  you  in  his  way  there.  I  know  from  the  ten 
der  affection  you  bear  me  and  our  little  ones,  that 
you  will  rejoice  to  hear  that  we  are  well.  Our  son 
is  much  better  than  when  you  left  home,  and  our 
daughter  rocks  him  to  sleep  with  the  song  of  '4  Come, 
papa,  come  home  to  brother  Johnny."  Sunday  seems 
a  more  lonely  day  to  me  than  any  other  when  you 
are  absent ;  for,  though  I  may  be  compared  to  those 
climates  which  are  deprived  of  the  sun  half  the 
year,  yet  upon  a  Sunday  you  commonly  afforded  us 
your  benign  influence.  I  am  now  at  Weymouth,  my 
father  brought  me  here  last  night ;  to-morrow  I  re 
turn  home,  where  I  hope  soon  to  receive  the  dearest 
of  friends,  and  the  tenderest  of  husbands,  with  that 
unabated  affection  wrhich  has  for  years  past,  and  will 
whilst  the  vital  spark  lasts,  burn  in  the  bosom  of  your 
affectionate 

A.  ADAMS. 


LETTERS.  13 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  19  August,  1774. 

THE  great  distance  between  us  makes  the  time  ap 
pear  very  long  to  me.  It  seems  already  a  month 
since  you  left  me.  The  great  anxiety  I  feel  for  my 
country,  for  you,  and  for  our  family,  renders  the  day 
tedious,  and  the  night  unpleasant.  The  rocks  and 
quicksands  appear  upon  every  side.  What  course 
you  can  or  will  take  is  all  wrapped  in  the  bosom  of 
futurity.  Uncertainty  and  expectation  leave  the 
mind  great  scope.  Did  ever  any  kingdom  or  state/ 
regain  its  liberty,  when  once  it  was  invaded,  with 
out  bloodshed  ?  I  cannot  think  of  it  without  horror. 
Yet  we  are  told,  that  all  the  misfortunes  of  Sparta 
were  occasioned  by  their  too  great  solicitude  for 
present  tranquillity,  and,  from  an  excessive  love  of 
peace,  they  neglected  the  means  of  making  it  sure 
and  lasting.  They  ought  to  have  reflected,  says  Po- 
lybius,  that,  "  as  there  is  nothing  more  desirable  or 
advantageous  than  peace,  when  founded  in  justice 
and  honor,  so  there  is  nothing  more  shameful,  and 
at  the  same  time  more  pernicious,  when  attained  by 
bad  measures,  and  purchased  at  the  price  of  liber 
ty."  I  have  received  a  most  charming  letter  from 
our  friend  Mrs.  Warren.1  She  desires  me  to  tell  you 

1  Mrs.  Mercy  Warren,  the  wife  of  General  James  Warren,  of 
Plymouth,  and  the  sister  of  James  Otis. 


14  LETTERS. 

that  her  best  wishes  attend  you  through  your  jour 
ney,  both  as  a  friend  and  a  patriot,  —  hopes  you  will 
have  no  uncommon  difficulties  to  surmount,  or  hostile 
movements  to  impede  you,  —  but,  if  the  Locrians 
should  interrupt  you,  she  hopes  that  you  will  beware, 
that  no  future  annals  may  say  you  chose  an  ambi 
tious  Philip  for  your  leader,  who  subverted  the  noble 
order  of  the  American  Amphictyons,  and  built  up  a 
monarchy  on  the  ruins  of  the  happy  institution. 

I  have  taken  a  very  great  fondness  for  reading 
Rollin's  Ancient  History  since  you  left  me.  I  am 
determined  to  go  through  with  it,  if  possible,  in  these 
my  days  of  solitude.  I  find  great  pleasure  and  en 
tertainment  from  it,  and  I  have  persuaded  Johnny  to 
read  me  a  page  or  two  every  day,  and  hope  he  will, 
from  his  desire  to  oblige  me,  entertain  a  fondness  for 
it.  We  have  had  a  charming  rain,  which  lasted 
twelve  hours,  and  has  greatly  revived  the  dying 
fruits  of  the  earth. 

I  want  much  to  hear  from  you.  I  long  impatiently 
to  have  you  upon  the  stage  of  action.  The  first  of 
September,  or  the  month  of  September,  perhaps,  may 
be  of  as  much  importance  to  Great  Britain,  as  the  Ides 
of  March  were  to  Csesar.  I  wish  you  every  public, 
as  well  as  private  blessing,  and  that  wisdom  which  is 
profitable  both  for  instruction  and  edification,  to  con 
duct  you  in  this  difficult  day.  The  little  flock  re 
member  papa,  and  kindly  wish  to  see  him ;  so  does 
your  most  affectionate 

ABIGAIL  ADAMS. 


LETTERS.  15 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  2  September,  1774. 

I  AM  very  impatient  to  receive  a  letter  from  you. 
You  indulged  me  so  much  in  that  way  in  your  last 
absence,  that  I  now  think  I  have  a  right  to  hear  as 
often  from  you,  as  you  have  leisure  and  opportunity 
to  write.  I  hear  that  Mr.  Adams1  wrote  to  his  son, 
and  the  Speaker1  to  his  lady  ;  but  perhaps  you  did 
not  know  of  the  opportunity.  I  suppose  you  have 
before  this  time  received  two  letters  from  me,  and 
will  write  me  by  the  same  conveyance.  I  judge  you 
reached  Philadelphia  last  Saturday  night.  I  cannot 
but  felicitate  you  upon  your  absence  a  little  while 
from  this  scene  of  perturbation,  anxiety,  and  distress. 
I  own  I  feel  not  a  little  agitated  with  the  accounts 
I  have  this  day  received  from  town  ;  great  commo 
tions  have  arisen  in  consequence  of  a  discovery  of  a 
traitorous  plot  of  Colonel  Brattle's,  —  his  advice  to 
Gage,  to  break  every  commissioned  officer,  and  to 
seize  the  province's  and  town's  stock  of  gunpow 
der.  This  has  so  enraged  and  exasperated  the  peo 
ple,  that  there  is  great  apprehension  of  an  immediate 
rupture.  They  have  been  all  in  flames  ever  since 
the  new-fangled  counsellors  have  taken  their  oaths. 
The  importance,  of  which  they  consider  the  meet- 

1  Mr.  Samuel  Adams.  Mr.  Gushing  had  been  the  Speaker 
of  the  House  of  Representatives  in  Massachusetts  until  cho 
sen  a  delegate  to  the  Congress. 


16  LETTERS. 

ing  of  the  Congress,  and  the  result  thereof  to  the 
community,  withholds  the  arm  of  vengeance  already 
lifted,  which  would  most  certainly  fall  with  accumu 
lated  wrath  upon  Brattle,  were  it  possible  to  come 
at  him  ;  —  but  no  sooner  did  he  discover  that  his 
treachery  had  taken  air,  than  he  fled,  not  only  to 
Boston,  but  into  the  camp,  for  safety.  You  will,  by 
Mr.  Tudor,  no  doubt  have  a  much  more  accurate 
account  than  I  am  able  to  give  you  ;  but  one  thing  I 
can  inform  you  of,  which  perhaps  you  may  not  have 
heard,  namely,  Mr.  Vinton,  our  Sheriff,  it  seems,  re 
ceived  one  of  those  twenty  warrants,1  which  were  is 
sued  by  Messrs.  Goldthwait  and  Price,  which  has  cost 
them  such  bitter  repentance  and  humble  acknowl 
edgments,  and  which  has  revealed  the  great  secret 
of  their  attachment  to  the  liberties  of  their  country, 
and  their  veneration  and  regard  for  the  good  will  of 
their  countrymen.  See  their  address  to  Hutchinson 
and  Gage.  This  warrant,  which  was  for  Stoughton- 
ham,2  Vinton  carried  and  delivered  to  a  constable 
there  ;  but,  before  he  had  got  six  miles,  he  was  over 
taken  by  sixty  men  on  horseback,  who  surrounded 
him,  and  told  him,  unless  he  returned  with  them  and 
demanded  back  that  warrant  and  committed  it  to  the 
flames  before  their  faces,  he  must  take  the  conse- 

1  These  were  warrants  issued  by  the  clerks  of  the  court  by 
which  the  juries  were  summoned. 

5  Now  Sharon.  The  history  of  the  events  alluded  to  in 
this  letter,  may  be  found  more  at  large  in  Gordon's  "  History 
of  the  American  War,"  Vol.  I.  pp.  366,  3c>7. 


LETTERS.  17 

quences  of  a  refusal ;  and  he,  not  thinking  it  best  to 
endure  their  vengeance,  returned  with  them,  made 
his  demand  of  the  warrant,  and  consumed  it,  upon 
which  they  dispersed  and  left  him  to  his  own  reflec 
tions.  Since  the  news  of  the  Quebec  bill  arrived, 
all  the  Church  people  here  have  hung  their  heads, 
and  will  not  converse  upon  politics,  though  ever  so 
much  provoked  by  the  opposite  party.  Before  that, 
parties  ran  very  high,  and  very  hard  words  and 
threats  of  blows  upon  both  sides  were  given  out. 
They  have  had  their  town  meeting  here,  which  was 
full  as  usual,  chose  their  committee  for  the  county 
meeting,  and  did  business  without  once  regarding  or 
fearing  for  the  consequences. 

I  should  be  glad  to  know  how  you  found  the  peo 
ple  as  you  travelled  from  town  to  town.  I  hear  you 
met  with  great  hospitality  and  kindness  in  Connecti 
cut.  Pray  let  me  know  how  your  health  is,  and 
whether  you  have  not  had  exceeding  hot  weather. 
The  drought  has  been  very  severe.  My  poor  cows 
will  certainly  prefer  a  petition  to  you,  setting  forth 
their  grievances,  and  informing  you  that  they  have 
been  deprived  of  their  ancient  privileges,  whereby 
they  are  become  great  sufferers,  and  desiring  that 
they  may  be  restored  to  them.  More  especially,  as 
their  living,  by  reason  of  the  drought,  is  all  taken 
from  them,  and  their  property  which  they  hold 
elsewhere  is  decaying,  they  humbly  pray  that  you 
would  consider  them,  lest  hunger  should  break 
through  stone  walls. 

VOL.  i.  2 


18  LETTERS. 

The  tenderest  regard  evermore  awaits  you  from 
your  most  affectionate 

ABIGAIL  ADAMS. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  14  September,  1774. 

DEAREST    FRIEND, 

FIVE  weeks  have  passed  and  not  one  line  have  I  re 
ceived.  I  would  rather  give  a  dollar  for  a  letter  by 
the  post,  though  the  consequence  should  be,  that  I 
ate  but  one  meal  a  day  these  three  weeks  to  come. 
Every  one  I  see  is  inquiring  after  you.  —  When  did 
I  hear? — All  my  intelligence  is  collected  from  the 
newspaper,  and  I  can  only  reply  that  I  saw  by  that, 
you  arrived  such  a  day.  I  know  your  fondness  for 
writing,  and  your  inclination  to  let  me  hear  from  you 
by  the  first  safe  conveyance,  which  makes  me  sus 
pect  that  some  letter  or  other  has  miscarried,  —  but 
I  hope,  now  you  have  arrived  at  Philadelphia,  you 
will  find  means  to  convey  me  some  intelligence. 
We  are  all  well  here.  I  think  I  enjoy  better  health 
than  I  have  done  these  two  years.  I  have  not  been 
to  town  since  I  parted  with  you  there.  The  Gov 
ernor  is  making  all  kinds  of  warlike  preparations, 
such  as  mounting  cannon  upon  Beacon  Hill,  digging 
intrenchments  upon  the  Neck,  placing  cannon  there, 
encamping  a  regiment  there,  throwing  up  breast* 
works,  &c.  The  people  are  much  alarmed,  and  the 


LETTERS.  19 

selectmen  have  waited  upon  him  in  consequence  of 
it.  The  County  Congress  have  also  sent  a  commit 
tee  ;  all  which  proceedings  you  will  have  a  more 
particular  account  of,  than  I  am  able  to  give  you, 
from  the  public  papers.  But,  as  to  the  movements 
of  this  town,  perhaps  you  may  not  hear  them  from 
any  other  person. 

In  consequence  of  the  powder  being  taken  from 
Charlestown,  a  general  alarm  spread  through  many 
towns  and  was  caught  pretty  soon  here.  The  report 
took  here  on  Friday,  and  on  Sunday  a  soldier  was  seen 
lurking  about  the  Common,  supposed  to  be  a  spy, 
but  most  likely  a  deserter.  However,  intelligence 
of  it  was  communicated  to  the  other  parishes,  and 
about  eight  o'clock,  Sunday  evening,  there  passed 
by  here  about  two  hundred  men,  preceded  by  a 
horsecart,  and  marched  down  to  the  powder  house, 
from  whence  they  took  the  powder,  and  carried  it 
into  the  other  parish  and  there  secreted  it.  1  opened 
the  window  upon  their  return.  They  passed  with 
out  any  noise,  not  a  word  among  them  till  they  came 
against  this  house,  when  some  of  them  perceiving 
me,  asked  me  if  I  wanted  any  powder.  I  replied, 
No,  since  it  was  in  so  good  hands.  —  The  reason 
they  gave  for  taking  it  was,  that  we  had  so  many 
Tories  here,  they  dared  not  trust  us  with  it ;  they  had 
taken  Vinton  in  their  train,  and  upon  their  return 
they  stopped  between  Cleverly's  and  Etter's  and 
called  upon  him  to  deliver  two  warrants.1  Upon  his 


For 


summoning  juries. 


20  LETTERS. 

producing  them,  they  put  it  to  vote  whether  they 
should  burn  them,  and  it  passed  in  the  affirmative. 
They  then  made  a  circle  and  burnt  them.  They 
then  called  a  vote  whether  they  should  huzza,  but,  it 
being  Sunday  evening,  it  passed  in  the  negative. 
They  called  upon  Vinton  to  swear,  that  he  would 
never  be  instrumental  in  carrying  into  execution  any 
of  these  new  acts.  They  were  not  satisfied  with  his 
answers  ;  however,  they  let  him  rest.  A  few  days 
afterwards,  upon  his  making  some  foolish  speeches, 
they  assembled  to  the  amount  of  two  or  three  hundred, 
and  swore  vengeance  upon  him  unless  he  took  a  solemn 
oath.  Accordingly,  they  chose  a  committee  and  sent 
it  with  him  to  Major  Miller's  to  see  that  he  complied ; 
and  they  waited  his  return,  which  proving  satisfacto 
ry,  they  dispersed.  This  town  appears  as  high  as 
you  can  well  imagine,  and,  if  necessary,  would  soon 
be  in  arms.  Not  a  Tory  but  hides  his  head.  The 
Church  parson  thought  they  were  coming  after  him, 
and  ran  up  garret ;  they  say  another  jumped  out  of 
his  window  and  hid  among  the  corn,  whilst  a  third 
crept  under  his  board  fence  and  told  his  beads. 


16  September,  1774. 

I  dined  to-day  at  Colonel  Quincy's.  They  were 
so  kind  as  to  send  me  and  Abby  and  Betsey  an  invi 
tation  to  spend  the  day  with  them  ;  and,  as  I  had  not 
been  to  see  them  since  I  removed  to  Braintree,  I  ac 
cepted  the  invitation.  After  I  got  there  came  Mr. 
Samuel  Quincy's  wife  and  Mr.  Sumner,  Mr.  Josiah 


LETTERS.  21 

and  wife.1  A  little  clashing  of  parties,  you  may  be 
sure.  Mr.  Sam's  wife  said,  she  thought  it  high  time 
for  her  husband  to  turn  about ;  he  had  not  done  half 
so  cleverly  since  he  left  her  advice  ;  said  they  both 
greatly  admired  the  most  excellent  speech  of  the 
Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  which  I  suppose  you  have  seen. 
It  meets,  and  most  certainly  merits,  the  greatest  en 
comiums. 

Upon  my  return  at  night,  Mr.  Thaxter  met  me 
at  the  door  with  your  letter,  dated  at  Princeton, 
New  Jersey.  It  really  gave  me  such  a  flow  of  spir 
its,  that  I  was  not  composed  enough  to  sleep  until 
one  o'clock.  You  make  no  mention  of  one  I  wrote 
you  previous  to  that  you  received  by  Mr.  Breck,  and 
sent  by  Mr.  Cunningham.  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  you 
are  well.  I  want  to  know  many  more  particulars 
than  you  write  me,  and  hope  soon  to  hear  from  you 
again.  I  dare  not  trust  myself  with  the  thought  how 
long  you  may  perhaps  be  absent.  I  only  count  the 
weeks  already  past  and  they  amount  to  five.  I  am 
not  so  lonely  as  I  should  have  been  without  my  two 
neighbours  ;  we  make  a  table-full  at  meal  times.  All 
the  rest  of  their  time  they  spend  in  the  office.  Nev 
er  were  two  persons  who  gave  a  family  less  trouble 
than  they  do.  It  is  at  last  determined,  that  Mr. 
Rice  keep  the  school  here.  Indeed,  he  has  kept 
ever  since  he  has  been  here,  but  not  with  any  ex 
pectation  that  he  should  be  continued  ;  —  but  the  peo 
ple,  finding  no  small  difference  between  him  and  his 

1  It  is  well  known,  that  these  two  brothers  took  opposite 
sides  in  the  struggle  that  ensued. 


22  LETTERS. 

predecessor,  chose  he  should  be  continued.  I  have 
not  sent  Johnny.1  He  goes  very  steadily  to  Mr. 
Thaxter,  who  I  believe  takes  very  good  care  of  him  ; 
and,  as  they  seem  to  have  a  liking  to  each  other, 
I  believe  it  will  be  best  to  continue  him  with  him. 
However,  when  you  return,  we  can  consult  what 
will  be  best.  I  am  certain  that,  if  he  does  not  get  so 
much  good,  he  gets  less  harm ;  and  I  have  always 
thought  it  of  very  great  importance,  that  children 
should,  in  the  early  part  of  life,  be  unaccustomed  to 
such  examples  as  would  tend  to  corrupt  the  purity  of 
their  words  and  actions,  that  they  may  chill  with 
horror  at  the  sound  of  an  oath,  and  blush  with  indig 
nation  at  an  obscene  expression.  These  first  princi 
ples,  which  grow  with  their  growth,  and  strengthen 
with  their  strength,  neither  time  nor  custom  can  to 
tally  eradicate.  You  will  perhaps  be  tired.  No.  — 
Let  it  serve  by  way  of  relaxation  from  the  more  im 
portant  concerns  of  the  day,  and  be  such  an  amuse 
ment,  as  your  little  hermitage  used  to  afford  you 
here.  You  have  before  you,  to  express  myself  in 
the  words  of  the  Bishop,  the  greatest  national  con 
cerns  that  ever  came  before  any  people  ;  and,  if  the 
prayers  and  petitions  ascend  unto  Heaven,  which 
are  daily  offered  for  you,  wisdom  will  flow  down  as 
a  stream,  and  righteousness  as  the  mighty  waters, 
and  your  deliberations  will  make  glad  the  cities  of 
our  God. 

I  was  very  sorry  I  did  not  know  of  Mr.  Gary's 

1  Her  son,  John  Quincy  Adams. 


LETTERS.  23 

going ;  it  would  have  been  so  good  an  opportunity  to 
have  sent  this,  as  I  lament  the  loss  of.  You  have 
heard,  no  doubt,  of  the  people's  preventing  the  court 
from  sitting  in  various  counties  ;  and  last  week,  in 
Taunton,  Angier  urged  the  court's  opening,  and  call 
ing  out  the  actions,  but  could  not  effect  it.  I  saw  a 
letter  from  Miss  Eunice,  wherein  she  gives  an  ac 
count  of  it,  and  says  there  were  two  thousand  men 
assembled  round  the  court-house,  and,  by  a  commit 
tee  of  nine,  presented  a  petition  requesting  that  they 
would  not  sit,  and  with  the  utmost  order  waited  two 
hours  for  their  answer,  when  they  dispersed. 

You  will  burn  all  these  letters,  lest  they  should 
fall  from  your  pocket,  and  thus  expose  your  most 
affectionate  friend, 

ABIGAIL  ADAMS. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Boston  Garrison,  22  September,  1774. 

I  HAVE  just  returned  from  a  visit  to  my  brother  with 
my  father,  who  carried  me  there  the  day  before  yes 
terday,  and  called  here  on  my  return,  to  see  this 
much  injured  town.  I  view  it  with  much  the  same 
sensations  that  I  should  the  body  of  a  departed 
friend ;  —  as  having  only  put  off  its  present  glory,  to 
rise  finally  to  a  more  happy  state.  I  will  not  despair, 
but  will  believe,  that,  our  cause  being  good,  we  shall 
finally  prevail.  The  maxim,  "  In  time  of  peace  pre- 


LETTERS. 

pare  for  war,"  (if  this  may  be  called  a  time  of  peace,) 
resounds  throughout  the  country.  Next  Tuesday  they 
are  warned  at  Braintree,  all  above  fifteen  and  under 
sixty,  to  attend  with  their  arms  ;  and  to  train  once  a 
fortnight  from  that  time  is  a  scheme  which  lies  much 
at  heart  with  many. 

Scott  has  arrived,  and  brings  news  that  he  expect 
ed  to  find  all  peace  and  quietness  here,  as  he  left 
them  at  home.  You  will  have  more  particulars  than 
I  am  able  to  send  you,  from  much  better  hands. 
There  has  been  in  town  a  conspiracy  of  the  negroes. 
At  present  it  is  kept  pretty  private,  and  was  discov 
ered  by  one  who  endeavoured  to  dissuade  them  from 
it.  He  being  threatened  with  his  life,  applied  to  Jus 
tice  Quincy  for  protection.  They  conducted  in  this 
way,  got  an  Irishman  to  draw  up  a  petition  to  the 
Governor,  telling  him  they  would  fight  for  him  pro 
vided  he  would  arm  them,  and  engage  to  liberate 
them  if  he  conquered.  And  it  is  said  that  he  attend 
ed  so  much  to  it,  as  to  consult  Percy  upon  it,  and 
one  Lieutenant  Small  has  been  very  busy  and  ac 
tive.  There  is  but  little  said,  and  what  steps  they 
will  take  in  consequence  of  it  I  know  not.  I  wish 
most  sincerely  there  was  not  a  slave  in  the  province ; 
it  always  appeared  a  most  iniquitous  scheme  to  me 
to  fight  ourselves  for  what  we  are  daily  robbing  and 
plundering  from  those  who  have  as  good  a  right  to 
freedom  as  we  have.  You  know  my  mind  upon 
this  subject. 

I  left  all  our  little  ones  well,  and  shall  return  to 
them  to-night.  I  hope  to  hear  from  you  by  the  re? 


LETTERS.  25 

turn  of  the  bearer  of  this,  and  by  Revere.  I  long 
for  the  day  of  your  return,  yet  look  upon  you  as 
much  safer  where  you  are,  but  know  it  will  not  do 
for  you  ;  —  not  one  action  has  been  brought  to  this 
court,  —  no  business  of  any  sort  in  your  way,  —  all 
law  ceases,  and  the  gospel  will  soon  follow  ;  for  they 
are  supporters  of  each  other.  Adieu,  my  father  hur 
ries  me. 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

ABIGAIL  ADAMS. 


TO    JOHN   ADAMS. 

Braintree,  16  October,  1774. 

MY  MUCH  LOVED  FRIEND, 

I  DARE  not  express  to  you,  at  three  hundred  miles' 
distance,  how  ardently  I  long  for  your  return.  I 
have  some  very  miserly  wishes,  and  cannot  consent 
to  your  spending  one  hour  in  town,  till,  at  least,  I 
have  had  you  twelve.  The  idea  plays  about  my  heart, 
unnerves  my  hand,  whilst  I  write, — awakens  all 
the  tender  sentiments,  that  years  have  increased  and 
matured,  and  which,  when  with  me,  were  every  day 
dispensing  to  you.  The  whole  collected  stock  of  ten 
weeks'  absence  knows  not  how  to  brook  any  longer 
restraint,  but  will  break  forth  and  flow  through  my 
pen.  May  the  like  sensations  enter  thy  breast,  and 
(spite  of  all  the  weighty  cares  of  state)  mingle  them 
selves  with  those  I  wish  to  communicate  ;  for,  in 


26  LETTERS. 

giving  them  utterance,  I  have  felt  more  sincere 
pleasure,  than  I  have  known  since  the  10th  of  Au 
gust.1  Many  have  been  the  anxious  hours  I  have 
spent  since  that  day  ;  the  threatening  aspect  of  our 
public  affairs,  the  complicated  distress  of  this  prov 
ince,  the  arduous  and  perplexed  business  in  which 
you  are  engaged,  have  all  conspired  to  agitate  my 
bosom  with  fears  and  apprehensions  to  which  I  have 
heretofore  been  a  stranger ;  and,  far  from  thinking 
the  scene  closed,  it  looks  as  though  the  curtain  was 
but  just  drawn,  and  only  the  first  scene  of  the  infernal 
plot  disclosed  ;  and  whether  the  end  will  be  tragical, 
Heaven  alone  knows.  You  cannot  be,  I  know,  nor 
do  I  wish  to  see  you,  an  inactive  spectator ;  but,  if  the 
sword  be  drawn,  I  bid  adieu  to  all  domestic  felicity, 
and  look  forward  to  that  country,  where  there  are 
neither  wars  nor  rumors  of  war,  in  a  firm  belief,  that, 
through  the  mercy  of  its  King,  we  shall  both  rejoice 
there  together. 

I  greatly  fear,  that  the  arm  of  treachery  and  vio 
lence  is  lifted  over  us,  as  a  scourge  and  heavy  pun 
ishment  from  Heaven  for  our  numerous  offences, 
and  for  the  misimprovement  of  our  great  advantages. 
If  we  expect  to  inherit  the  blessings  of  our  fathers, 
we  should  return  a  little  more  to  their  primitive  sim 
plicity  of  manners,  and  not  sink  into  inglorious  ease. 
We  have  too  many  high-sounding  words,  and  too 
few  actions  that  correspond  with  themA  I  have  spent 
one  Sabbath  in  town  since  you  left.  I  saw  no  differ- 

•  The  day  on  which  he  left  her. 


LETTERS.  27 

ence  in  respect  to  ornament,  &c.  ;  but  in  the  coun 
try  you  must  look  for  that  virtue,  of  which  you  find 
but  small  glimmerings  in  the  metropolis.  Indeed, 
they  have  not  the  advantages,  nor  the  resolution, 
to  encourage  our  own  manufactories,  which  peo 
ple  in  the  country  have.  To  the  mercantile  part,  it 
is  considered  as  throwing  away  their  own  bread  ; 
but  they  must  retrench  their  expenses,  and  be  con 
tent  with  a  small  share  of  gain,  for  they  will  find  but 
few  who  will  wear  their  livery.  As  for  me,  I  will 
seek  wool  and  flax,  and  work  willingly  with  my 
hands  ;  and,  indeed,  there  is  occasion  for  all  our  in 
dustry  and  economy.  You  mention  the  removal  of 
our  books,  &c.,  from  Boston  ;  I  believe  they  are  safe 
there,  and  it  would  incommode  the  gentlemen  to  re 
move  them,  as  they  would  not  then  have  a  place  to 
repair  to  for  study.  I  suppose  they  would  not  choose 
to  be  at  the  expense  of  boarding  out.  Mr.  Williams, 
I  believe,  keeps  pretty  much  with  his  mother.  Mr. 
Hill's  father  had  some  thoughts  of  removing  up  to 
Braintree,  provided  he  could  be  accommodated  with 
a  house,  which  he  finds  very  difficult. 

Mr.  Cranch's  last  determination  was  to  tarry  in 
town,  unless  any  thing  new  takes  place.  His  friends 
in  town  oppose  his  removal  so  much,  that  he  is  de 
termined  to  stay.  The  opinion  you  have  entertained 
of  General  Gage  is,  I  believe,  just.  Indeed,  he  pro 
fesses  to  act  only  upon  the  defensive.  The  people 
in  the  country  begin  to  be  very  anxious  for  the 
Congress  to  rise  ;  they  have  no  idea  of  the  weighty 
business  you  have  to  transact,  and  their  blood  boils 


28  LETTERS. 

with  indignation  at  the  hostile  preparations  they  are 
constant  witnesses  of.  Mr.  Quincy's  so  secret  de 
parture  is  matter  of  various  speculation  ;  some  say 
he  is  deputed  by  the  Congress,  others,  that  he  is  gone 
to  Holland,  and  the  Tories  say  he  is  gone  to  be 
hanged.1 

I  rejoice  at  the  favorable  account  you  give  me  of 
your  health.  May  it  be  continued  to  you.  My  health 
is  much  better  than  it  was  last  fall ;  some  folks  say 
I  grow  very  fat.  I  venture  to  write  almost  any  thing 
in  this  letter,  because  I  know  the  care  of  the  bearer. 
He  will  be  most  sadly  disappointed,  if  you  should  be 
broken  up  before  he  arrives ;  as  he  is  very  desirous 
of  being  introduced  by  you  to  a  number  of  gentle 
men  of  respectable  character.  I  almost  envy  him, 
that  he  should  see  you  before  I  can.  Mr.  Thaxter 
and  Mr.  Rice  present  their  regards  to  you.  Uncle 
Quincy,  too,  sends  his  love  to  you.  He  is  very  good 
to  call  and  see  me,  and  so  have  many  other  of  my 
friends  been.  Colonel  Warren  and  lady  were  here  on 
Monday,  and  send  their  love  to  you.  The  Colonel 
promised  to  write.  Mrs.  Warren  will  spend  a  day  or 
two,  on  her  return,  with  me.  I  told  Betsey2  to  write 
to  you  ;  she  says  she  would,  if  you  were  her  husband. 

Your  mother  sends  her  love  to  you  ;  and  all  your 
family,  too  numerous  to  name,  desire  to  be  remem- 

1  See  the  "  Memoir  of  the  Life  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr.,"  by 
his  son,  Josiah  Quincy,  p.  182. 

2  Mrs.  Adams's  sister ;  who  was  afterwards  married  to  the 
Rev.  John  Shaw,  and  to  whom  several  of  the  letters  in  this 
volume  were  addressed. 


LETTERS.  29 

bered.  You  will  receive  letters  from  two,  who  are 
as  earnest  to  write  to  papa,  as  if  the  welfare  of  a 
kingdom  depended  upon  it.  If  you  can  give  any 
guess,  within  a  month,  let  me  know  when  you  think 
of  returning. 

Your  most  affectionate 

ABIGAIL  ADAMS. 


JBraintree,  4  May,  1775. 

I  HAVE  but  little  news  to  write  you.  Every  thing  of 
that  kind  you  will  learn  by  a  more  accurate  hand 
than  mine.  Things  remain  in  much  the  same  situa 
tion  here,  that  they  were  when  you  went  away. 
There  has  been  no  descent  upon  the  seacoast. 
Guards  are  regularly  kept ;  and  people  seem  more 
settled,  and  are  returning  to  their  husbandry.  I  feel 
somewhat  lonely.  Mr.  Thaxter  is  gone  home.  Mr. 
Rice  is  going  into  the  army,  as  captain  of  a  com 
pany.  We  have  no  school.  I  know  not  what  to  do 
with  John.  As  government  is  assumed,  I  suppose 
courts  of  justice  will  be  established,  and  in  that  case, 
there  may  be  business  to  do.  If  so,  would  it  not  be 
best  for  Mr.  Thaxter  to  return  ?  They  seem  to  be 
discouraged  in  the  study  of  law,  and  think  there 

1  Mr.  Adams  was  at  home  during  the  interval  between  the 
sessions  of  Congress,  marked  by  the  dates  of  this  and  the 
preceding  letter. 


30  LETTERS. 

never  will  be  any  business  for  them.  I  could  have 
wished  they  had  consulted  you  upon  the  subject,  be 
fore  you  went  away. 

I  suppose  you  will  receive  two  or  three  volumes 
of  that  forlorn  wretch  Hutchinson's  letters.  Among 
many  other  things,  I  hear  he  wrote,  in  1772,  that 
Deacon  Phillips  and  you  had  like  to  have  been 
chosen  into  the  Council,  but,  if  you  had,  you  should 
have  shared  the  same  fate  with  Bowers.1  May  the 
fate  of  Mordecai  be  his.  There  is  nobody  admitted 
into  town  yet.  I  have  made  two  or  three  attempts 
to  get  somebody  in,  but  cannot  succeed  ;  so  have  not 
been  able  to  do  the  business  you  left  in  charge  with 
me.  I  want  very  much  to  hear  from  you,  how  you 
stood  your  journey,  and  in  what  state  you  find  your 
self  now.  I  felt  very  anxious  about  you ;  though  I 
endeavoured  to  be  very  insensible  and  heroic,  yet 
my  heart  felt  like  a  heart  of  lead.  The  same  night 
you  left  me,  I  heard  of  Mr.  Quincy's  death,  which, 
at  this  time,  was  a  most  melancholy  event ;  especially, 
as  he  wrote  in  minutes,  which  he  left  behind,  that 
he  had  matters  of  consequence  intrusted  with  him, 
which,  for  want  of  a  confidant,  must  die  with  him.2 
I  went  to  see  his  distressed  widow  last  Saturday,  at 
the  Colonel's ;  and,  in  the  afternoon,  from  an  alarm 
they  had,  she  and  her  sister,  with  three  others  of  the 
family,  took  refuge  with  me  and  tarried  all  night. 
She  desired  me  to  present  her  regards  to  you,  and  let 

1  That  is,  would  have  received  his  negative. 
8  See  "  Memoir  of  Josiah  Quincy,  Jr."  p.  345. 


LETTERS.  31 

you  know,  she  wished  you  every  blessing,  —  should 
always  esteem  you,  as  a  sincere  friend  of  her  deceas 
ed  husband.  Poor  afflicted  woman  ;  my  heart  was 
wounded  for  her.  I  must  quit  the  subject,  and  entreat 
you  to  write  me  by  every  opportunity. 

Yours, 

PORTIA. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  7  May,  1775. 

I  RECEIVED  by  the  Deacon  two  letters  from  you,  this 
day,  from  Hartford.  I  feel  a  recruit  of  spirits  upon 
the  reception  of  them,  and  the  comfortable  news 
which  they  contain.  We  had  not  heard  any  thing 
from  North  Carolina  before,  and  could  not  help  feel 
ing  anxious,  lest  we  should  find  a  defection  there, 
arising  more  from  their  ancient  feuds  and  animosi 
ties,  than  from  any  settled  ill-will  in  the  present  con 
test  ;  but  the  confirmation  of  the  choice  of  their  del 
egates  by  their  Assembly,  leaves  not  a  doubt  of  their 
firmness ;  nor  doth  the  eye  say  unto  the  hand,  "  I 
have  no  need  of  thee."  The  Lord  will  not  cast  off 
his  people,  neither  will  he  forsake  his  inheritance. 
Great  events  are  most  certainly  in  the  womb  of  fu 
turity  ;  and,  if  the  present  chastisements  which  we 
experience  have  a  proper  influence  upon  our  conduct, 
the  event  will  certainly  be  in  our  favor.  The  distresses 
of  the  inhabitants  of  Boston  are  beyond  the  power  of 


32  LETTERS. 

language  to  describe  ;  there  are  but  very  few  who  are 
permitted  to  come  out  in  a  day ;  they  delay  giving 
passes,  make  them  wait  from  hour  to  hour,  and  their 
counsels  are  not  two  hours  together  alike.  One  day, 
they  shall  come  out  with  their  effects  ;  the  next  day, 
merchandise  is  not  effects.  One  day,  their  house 
hold  furniture  is  to  come  out ;  the  next,  only  wear 
ing  apparel ;  the  next,  Pharaoh's  heart  is  hardened, 
and  he  refuseth  to  hearken  to  them,  and  will  not  let 
the  people  go.  May  their  deliverance  be  wrought 
out  for  them,  as  it  was  for  the  children  of  Israel.  I 
do  not  mean  by  miracles,  but  by  the  interposition  of 
Heaven  in  their  favor.  They  have  taken  a  list  of 
all  those  who  they  suppose  were  concerned  in  watch 
ing  the  tea,  and  every  other  person  whom  they  call 
obnoxious,  and  they  and  their  effects  are  to  suffer 
destruction.  Yours, 

PORTIA. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  24  May,  1775. 

I  SUPPOSE  you  have  had  a  formidable  account  of  the 
alarm  we  had  last  Sunday  morning.  When  I  rose, 
about  six  o'clock,  I  was  told,  that  the  drums  had  been 
some  time  beating,  and  that  three  alarm  guns  were 
fired ;  that  Weymouth  bell  had  been  ringing,  and 
Mr.  Weld's  was  then  ringing.  I  immediately  sent 
off  an  express  to  know  the  occasion,  and  found  the 


LETTERS.  33 

whole  town  in  confusion.  Three  sloops  and  one 
cutter  had  come  out  and  dropped  anchor  just  below 
Great  Hill.  It  was  difficult  to  tell  their  designs ; 
some  supposed  they  were  coming  to  Germantown, 
others,  to  Weymouth  ;  people,  women,  children, 
from  the  iron-works,  came  flocking  down  this  way  ; 
every  woman  and  child  driven  off  from  below  my 
father's  ;  my  father's  family  flying.  The  Doctor l  is 
in  great  distress,  as  you  may  well  imagine,  for  my 
aunt  had  her  bed  thrown  into  a  cart  into  which  she 
got  herself,  and  ordered  the  boy  to  drive  her  to 
Bridgewater,  which  he  did.  The  report  was  to  them, 
that  three  hundred  had  landed,  and  were  upon  their 
march  up  into  town.  The  alarm  flew  like  lightning, 
and  men  from  all  parts  came  flocking  down,  till  two 
thousand  were  collected.  But,  it  seems,  their  expe 
dition  was  to  Grape  Island  for  Levett's  hay.  There 
it  was  impossible  to  reach  them,  for  want  of  boats  ; 
but  the  sight  of  so  many  persons,  and  the  firing  at 
them,  prevented  their  getting  more  than  three  tons  of 
hay,  though  they  had  carted  much  more  down  to  the 
water.  At  last  a  lighter  was  mustered,  and  a  sloop 
from  Hingham,  which  had  six  port  holes.  Our  men 
eagerly  jumped  on  board,  and  put  off  for  the  island. 
As  soon  as  they  perceived  it,  they  decamped.  Our 
people  landed  upon  the  island,  and  in  an  instant  set 
fire  to  the  hay,  which,  with  the  barn,  was  soon  con- 

1  Dr.  Cotton  Tufts,  of  Weymouth,  well  known  for  many 
years,  as  a  leading  man  in  the  County  of  Norfolk,  had  married 
a  daughter  of  Colonel  John  Quincy's,  and,  therefore,  a  sister 
of  Mrs.  Adams's  mother. 

VOL.  I.  3 


34  LETTERS. 

sumed  ; — about  eighty  tons,  it  is  said.  We  expect 
soon  to  be  in  continual  alarms,  till  something  deci 
sive  takes  place.  We  wait,  with  longing  expectation, 
in  hopes  to  hear  the  best  accounts  from  you,  with 
regard  to  union  and  harmony,  &c.  We  rejoice 
greatly  on  the  arrival  of  Dr.  Franklin,  as  he  must 
certainly  be  able  to  inform  you  very  particularly  of 
the  situation  of  affairs  in  England.  I  wish  you 
would,  if  you  can  get  time,  be  as  particular  as  you 
may,  when  you  write,  Every  one  hereabouts  comes 
to  me,  to  hear  what  accounts  I  have.  I  was  so  un 
lucky,  as  not  to  get  the  letter  you  wrote  at  New 
York.  Captain  Beale  forgot  it,  and  left  it  behind. 
We  have  a  flying  report  here,  with  regard  to  New 
York,  but  cannot  give  any  credit  to  it,  as  yet,  that 
they  had  been  engaged,  with  the  ships,  which  Gage 
sent  there,  and  had  taken  them,  with  great  loss  upon 
both  sides. 

Yesterday  we  had  an  account  of  three  ships  com 
ing  into  Boston.  I  believe  it  is  true,  as  there  was  a 
salute  from  the  other  ships,  though  I  have  not  been 
able  to  learn  from  whence  they  come.  I  suppose  you 
have  had  an  account  of  the  fire,  which  did  much 
damage  to  the  warehouses,  and  added  greatly  to  the 
distresses  of  the  inhabitants,  whilst  it  continued.  The 
bad  conduct  of  General  Gage1  was  the  means  of  its 
doing  so  much  damage. 

Our  house  has  been,  upon  this  alarm,  in  the  same 

1  He  had  taken  the  engines  under  guard,  in  consequence  of 
a  report,  that  the  liberty  party  intended  to  fire  the  town.  See 
"  The  Remembrancer,"  for  1775,  pp.  95,  98. 


LETTERS.  35 

scene  of  confusion,  that  it  was  upon  the  former. 
,!£>oldiers  coming  in  for  a  lodging,  for  breakfast,  for 
Uupper,  for  drink,  &c.  Sometimes  refugees  from 

Boston,  tired  and  fatigued,  seek  an  asylum  for  a  day, 

a  night,  a  week.     You  can  hardly  imagine  how  we 

live  ;  yet, 

"  To  the  houseless  child  of  want 

Our  doors  are  open  still ; 
And,  though  our  portions  are  but  scant, 

We  give  them  with  good  will." 

My  best  wishes  attend  you,  both  for  your  health 
and  happiness,  and  that  you  may  be  directed  into  the 
wisest  and  best  measures  for  our  safety,  and  the 
security  of  our  posterity.  I  wish  you  were  nearer  to 
us ;  we  know  not  what  a  day  will  bring  forth,  nor 
what  distress  one  hour  may  throw  us  into.  Hitherto 
I  have  been  able  to  maintain  a  calmness  and  pres 
ence  of  mind,  and  hope  I  shall,  let  the  exigency  of 
the  time  be  what  it  will.  Adieu,  breakfast  calls. 
Your  affectionate 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 


"VVey  mouth,  15  June,  1775. 

I  SAT  down  to  write  to  you  on  Monday,  but  really 
could  not  compose  myself  sufficiently  ;  the  anxiety  I 


36  LETTERS. 

suffered  from  not  hearing  one  syllable  from  you  for 
more  than  five  weeks,  and  the  new  distress  arising 
from  the  arrival  of  recruits,  agitated  me  more  than 
I  have  been  since  the  never-to-be-forgotten  14th  of 
April.1  I  have  been  much  revived  by  receiving  two 
letters  from  you  last  night ;  one  by  the  servant  of 
your  friend,  and  the  other  by  the  gentleman  you 
mention,  though  they  both  went  to  Cambridge,  and 
I  have  not  seen  them.  I  hope  to  send  this,  as  a  re 
turn  to  you. 

I  feared  much  for  your  health,  when  you  wrent 
away.  I  must  entreat  you  to  be  as  careful  as  you 
can  consistently  with  the  duty  you  owe  your  country. 
That  consideration,  alone,  prevailed  with  me  to  con 
sent  to  your  departure,  in  a  time  so  perilous  and 
so  hazardous  to  your  family,  and  with  a  body  so 
infirm  as  to  require  the  tenderest  care  and  nursing. 
I  wish  you  may  be  supported  and  divinely  assisted 
in  this  most  important  crisis,  when  the  fate  of  em 
pires  depends  upon  your  wisdom  and  conduct.  I 
greatly  rejoice  to  hear  of  your  union  and  determina 
tion  to  stand  by  us. 

We  cannot  but  consider  the  great  distance  you  are 
from  us  as  a  very  great  misfortune,  when  our  criti 
cal  situation  renders  it  necessary  to  hear  from  you 
every  week,  and  will  be  more  and  more  so,  as  dif 
ficulties  arise.  We  now  expect  our  seacoast  rav 
aged  ;  perhaps  the  very  next  letter  I  write  will  inform 
you,  that  I  am  driven  away  from  our  yet  quiet  cot- 

1  The  day  upon  which  he  left  her. 


LETTERS.  37 

tage.  Necessity  will  oblige  Gage  to  take  some  des 
perate  steps.  We  are  told  for  truth,  that  he  is  now 
eight  thousand  strong.  We  live  in  continual  expec 
tation  of  alarms.  Courage,  I  know  we  have  in 
abundance,  —  conduct,  I  hope  we  shall  not  want ; 
but  powder,  —  where  shall  we  get  a  sufficient  sup 
ply  ?  I  wish  we  may  not  fail  there.  Every  town  is 
filled  with  the  distressed  inhabitants  of  Boston.  Our 
house  among  others  is  deserted,  and  by  this  time, 
like  enough,  made  use  of  as  a  barrack.  Mr.  Bow- 
doin  and  his  lady  are  at  present  in  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Borland,  and  are  going  to  Middleborough,  to  the 
house  of  Judge  Oliver.  He,  poor  gentleman,  is  so 
low,  that  I  apprehend  he  is  hastening  to  a  house  not 
made  with  hands ;  he  looks  like  a  mere  skeleton, 
speaks  faint  and  low,  is  racked  with  a  violent  cough, 
and,  I  think,  far  advanced  in  a  consumption.  I  went 
to-  see  him  last  Saturday.  He  is  very  inquisitive  of 
every  person  with  regard  to  the  times ;  begged  I 
would  let  him  know  of  the  first  intelligence  I  had 
from  you  ;  is  very  unable  to  converse  by  reason  of 
his  cough.  He  rides  every  pleasant  day,  and  has 
been  kind  enough  to  call  at  the  door  (though  unable 
to  get  out)  several  times.  He  says  the  very  name 
of  Hutchinson  distresses  him.  Speaking  of  him,  the 
other  day,  he  broke  out,  —  "  Religious  rascal !  how 
I  abhor  his  name." 

Pray  be  as  particular  as  possible  when  you  write. 
Everybody  wants  to  hear  and  to  know  what  is  do 
ing,  and  what  may  be  communicated  do  not  fail  to 
inform  me  of.  All  our  friends  desire  to  be  kindly 


38  LETTERS. 

remembered  to  you.  Gage's  proclamation  you 
will  receive  by  this  conveyance.  All  the  records  of 
time  cannot  produce  a  blacker  page.  Satan,  when 
driven  from  the  regions  of  bliss,  exhibited  not  more 
malice.  Surely  the  father  of  lies  is  superseded. 
Yet  we  think  it  the  best  proclamation  he  could  have 
issued. 

I  shall,  whenever  I  can,  receive  and  entertain,  in 
the  best  manner  I  am  capable,  the  gentlemen  who 
have  so  generously  proffered  their  services  in  our 
army.  Government  is  wanted  in  the  army  and  else 
where.  We  see  the  want  of  it  more  from  so  large 
a  body  being  together,  than  when  each  individual 
was  employed  in  his  own  domestic  circle.  My  best 
regards  attend  every  man  you  esteem.  You  will 
make  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Mifflin  and  lady.  I  do 
not  now  wonder  at  the  regard  the  ladies  express  for 
a  soldier.  Every  man  who  wears  a  cockade  appears 
of  double  the  importance  he  used  to  do,  and  I  feel 
a  respect  for  the  lowest  subaltern  in  the  army.  You 
tell  me  you  know  not  when  you  shall  see  me.  I 
never  trust  myself  long  with  the  terrors  which  some 
times  intrude  themselves  upon  me. 

1  hope  we  shall  see  each  other  again,  and  rejoice 
together  in  happier  days  ;  the  little  ones  are  well, 
and  send  duty  to  papa.  Don't  fail  of  letting  me 
hear  from  you  by  every  opportunity.  Every  line  is 
like  a  precious  relic  of  the  saints. 

I  have  a  request  to  make  of  you  ;  something  like 
the  barrel  of  sand,  I  suppose  you  will  think  it,  but 
really  of  much  more  importance  to  me.  It  is,  that 


LETTERS.  39 

you  would  send  out  Mr.  Bass,1  and  purchase  me  a 
bundle  of  pins,  and  put  them  in  your  trunk  for  me. 
The  cry  for  pins  is  so  great,  that  what  I  used  to  buy 
for  seven  shillings  and  sixpence,  are  now  twenty 
shillings,  and  not  to  be  had  for  that.  A  bundle  con 
tains  six  thousand,  for  which  I  used  to  give  a  dollar  ; 
but  if  you  can  procure  them  for  fifty  shillings,  or 
three  pounds,2  pray  let  me  have  them. 
I  am,  with  the  tenderest  regard, 

Your 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN   ADAMS. 

Sunday,  18  June,  1775. 

DEAREST    FRIEND, 

THE  day,  —  perhaps,  the  decisive  day,  —  is  come,  on 
which  the  fate  of  America  depends.  My  bursting 
heart  must  find  vent  at  my  pen.  I  have  just  heard, 
that  our  dear  friend,  Dr.  Warren,  is  no  more,  but 
fell  gloriously  fighting  for  his  country  ;  saying,  bet 
ter  to  die  honorably  in  the  field,  than  ignominiously 
hang  upon  the  gallows.  Great  is  our  loss.  He  has 
distinguished  himself  in  every  engagement,  by  his 
courage  and  fortitude,  by  animating  the  soldiers,  and 

1  A  man  who  accompanied  Mr.  Adams  in  the  capacity  of 
a  servant. 

2  This  price  must  have  been  caused  by  the  obstruction  of 
trade,  as  there  had  been  no  emission  of  paper  money  of  im 
portance. 


40  LETTERS. 

leading  them  on  by  his  own  example.  A  particular 
account  of  these  dreadful,  but  I  hope  glorious  days 
will  be  transmitted  you,  no  doubt,  in  the  exactest 
manner. 

"  The  race  is  not  to  the  swift,  nor  the  battle  to 
the  strong  ;  but  the  God  of  Israel  is  he,  that  giveth 
strength  and  power  unto  his  people.  Trust  in  him 
at  all  times,  ye  people,  pour  out  your  hearts  before 
him  ;  God  is  a  refuge  for  us."  Charlestown  is  laid 
in  ashes.  The  battle  began  upon  our  intrenchments 
upon  Bunker's  Hill,  Saturday  morning  about  three 
o'clock,  and  has  not  ceased  yet,  and  it  is  now  three 
o'clock  Sabbath  afternoon. 

It  is  expected  they  will  come  put  over  the  Neck 
to-night,  and  a  dreadful  battle  must  ensue.  Almighty 
God,  cover  the  heads  of  our  countrymen,  and  be  a 
shield  to  our  dear  friends  !  How  many  have  fallen, 
we  know  not.  The  constant  roar  of  the  cannon  is 
so  distressing,  that  we  cannot  eat,  drink,  or  sleep. 
May  we  be  supported  and  sustained  in  the  dreadful 
conflict.  I  shall  tarry  here  till  it  is  thought  unsafe 
by  my  friends,  and  then  I  have  secured  myself  a 
retreat  at  your  brother's,  who  has  kindly  offered  me 
part  of  his  house.  I  cannot  compose  myself  to  write 
any  further  at  present.  I  will  add  more  as  I  hear 
further. 

Tuesday  Afternoon. 

I  have  been  so  much  agitated,  that  I  have  not 
been  able  to  write  since  Sabbath  day.  When  I  say, 
that  ten  thousand  reports  are  passing,  vague  and  un- 


LETTERS,  41 

certain  as  the  wind,  I  believe  I  speak  the  truth.  I 
am  not  able  to  give  you  any  authentic  account  of 
last  Saturday,  but  you  will  not  be  destitute  of  intelli 
gence.  Colonel  Palmer  has  just  sent  me  word,  that 
he  has  an  opportunity  of  conveyance.  Incorrect  as 
this  scrawl  will  be,  it  shall  go.  I  ardently  pray,  that 
you  may  be  supported  through  the  arduous  task  you 
have  before  you.  I  wish  I  could  contradict  the  re 
port  of  the  Doctor's  death  ;  but  it  is  a  lamentable 
truth,  and  the  tears  of  multitudes  pay  tribute  to  his 
memory  ;  those  favorite  lines  of  Collins  continually 
sound  in  my  ears  ; 

"  How  sleep  the  brave,"  <fec.1 

I  must  close,  as  the  Deacon  waits.  I  have  not 
pretended  to  be  particular  with  regard  to  what  I 
have  heard,  because  I  know  you  will  collect  better 
intelligence.  The  spirits  of  the  people  are  very 
good  ;  the  loss  of  Charlestown  affects  them  no  more 
than  a  drop  of  the  bucket.  I  am,  most  sincerely, 

Yours, 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

22  June,  1775. 

I  RECEIVED  yours  of  June  10th,  for  which  I  thank 
you.    I  want  you  to  be  more  particular.    Does  every 

*  Collins's  Ode  is  too  well  known  to  need  insertion. 


42  LETTERS. 

member  feel  for  us  ?  Can  they  realize  what  we 
suffer  ?  And  can  they  believe,  with  what  patience 
and  fortitude  we  endure  the  conflict  ?  Nor  do  we 
even  tremble  at  the  frowns  of  power. 

You  inquire  of  me  who  were  at  the  engagement 
at  Grape  Island.  I  may  say,  with  truth,  all  of  Wey- 
mouth,  Braintree,  Hingham,  who  were  able  to  bear 
arms,  and  hundreds  from  other  towns  within  twenty, 
thirty,  and  forty  miles  of  Weymouth.  Our  good 
friend,  the  Doctor,1  is  in  a  miserable  state  of  health, 
and  hardly  able  to  go  from  his  own  house  to  my 
father's.  Danger,  you  know,  sometimes  makes  timid 
men  bold.  He  stood  that  day  very  well,  and  gener 
ously  attended,  with  drink,  biscuit,  flints,  &c.,  five 
hundred  men,  without  taking  any  pay.  He  has  since 
been  chosen  one  of  the  Committee  of  Correspondence 
for  that  town,  and  has  done  much  service,  by  estab 
lishing  a  regular  method  of  alarm  from  town  to  town. 
Both  your  brothers  were  there  ;  your  younger  brother, 
with  his  company,  who  gained  honor  by  their  good 
order  that  -day.  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  venture 
on  board  a  schooner,  to  land  upon  the  island.  As  to 
Chelsea,  I  cannot  be  so  particular,  as  I  know  only  in 
general,  that  Colonel  Putnam  commanded  there,  and 
had  many  gentlemen  volunteers.  We  have  two  com 
panies  stationed  in  this  town  ;  at  Germantown,  Cap 
tain  Turner  ;  at  Squantum,  Captain  Vinton  ;  in  Wey 
mouth,  one  ;  in  Hingham,  two,  &c.  I  believe  I  shall 
remove  your  books  this  week  to  your  brother's.  We 

1  Dr.  Tufts. 


LETTERS.  43 

think  it  advisable.  Colonel  Quincy  has  procured  his 
family  a  retreat  at  Deacon  Holbrook's.  Mr.  Cranch 
has  one  at  Major  Bass's,  in  case  of  necessity,  to  which 
we  hope  not  to  be  driven.  We  hear,  that  the  troops 
destined  for  New  York  are  all  expected  here ;  but 
we  have  got  to  that  pass,  that  a  whole  legion  of  them 
would  not  intimidate  us.  I  think  I  am  very  brave, 
upon  the  whole.  If  danger  comes  near  my  dwelling, 
I  suppose  I  shall  shudder.  We  want  powder,  but, 
with  the  blessing  of  Heaven,  we  fear  them  not. 
Write  every  opportunity  you  can. 

I  am  yours, 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  25  June,  1775. 

DEAREST  FRIEND, 

MY  father  has  been  more  afflicted  by  the  destruction 
of  Charlestown  than  by  any  thing  which  has  hereto 
fore  taken  place.  Why  should  not  his  countenance 
be  sad,  when  the  city,  the  place  of  his  father's 
sepulchre,  lieth  waste,  and  the  gates  thereof  are  con 
sumed  with  fire  ?  Scarcely  one  stone  remaineth 
upon  another  ;  but  in  the  midst  of  sorrow  we  have 
abundant  cause  of  thankfulness,  that  so  few  of  our 
brethren  are  numbered  with  the  slain,  whilst  our 
enemies  were  cut  down  like  the  grass  before  the 
scythe.  But  one  officer  of  all  the  Welsh  fusileers 


44  LETTERS. 

remains  to  tell  his  story.  Many  poor  wretches  die 
for  want  of  proper  assistance  and  care  of  their 
wounds. 

Every  account  agrees  in  fourteen  or  fifteen  hun 
dred  slain  and  wounded  upon  their  side,  nor  can  I 
learn  that  they  dissemble  the  number  themselves. 
We  had  some  heroes  that  day,  who  fought  with 
amazing  intrepidity  and  courage. 

"  Extremity  is  the  trier  of  spirits  ; 
—  common  chances  common  men  can  bear  ;  " 
And  "  when  the  sea  is  calm,  all  boats  alike 
Show  mastership  in  floating.     But  fortune's  blows, 
When  most  struck  home,  being  bravely  warded,  crave 
A  noble  cunning." 

I  hear  that  General  Howe  has  said,  that  the  battle 
upon  the  plains  of  Abram  was  but  a  bauble  to  this. 
When  we  consider  all  the  circumstances  attending 
this  action,  we  stand  astonished  that  our  people  were 
not  all  cut  off.  They  had  but  one  hundred  feet  in 
trenched,  the  number  who  were  engaged  did  not  ex 
ceed  eight  hundred,  and  they  with  not  half  ammu 
nition  enough  ;  the  reinforcement  not  able  to  get  to 
them  seasonably.  The  tide  was  up,  and  high,  so  that 
their  floating  batteries  came  upon  each  side  of  the 
causeway,  and  their  row-galleys  kept  a  continual  fire. 
Added  to  this,  the  fire  from  Cops  Hill,  and  from  the 
ships  ;  the  town  in  flames,  all  around  them,  and  the 
heat  from  the  flames  so  intense  as  scarcely  to  be 
borne  ;  the  day  one  of  the  hottest  we  have  had  this 
season,  and  the  wind  blowing  the  smoke  in  their 
faces,  —  only  figure  to  yourself  all  these  circumstan- 


LETTERS.  45 

ces,  and  then  consider  that  we  do  not  count  sixty  men 
lost.1  My  heart  overflows  at  the  recollection. 

We  live  in  continual  expectation  of  hostilities. 
Scarcely  a  day  that  does  not  produce  some  ;  but,  like 
good  Nehemiah,  having  made  our  prayer  unto  God, 
and  set  the  people  with  their  swords,  their  spears, 
and  their  bows,  we  will  say  unto  them,  "  Be  not  ye 
afraid  of  them ;  remember  the  Lord,  who  is  great 
and  terrible,  and  fight  for  your  brethren,  your  sons 
and  your  daughters,  your  wives  and  your  houses." 

I  have  just  received  yours  of  the  17th  of  June,  in 
seven  days  only  ;  every  line  from  that  far 2  country  is 
precious ;  you  do  not  tell  me  how  you  do,  but  I  will 
hope  better.  Alas,  you  little  thought  what  distress 
we  were  in  the  day  you  wrote.3  They  delight  in- 
molesting  us  upon  the  Sabbath.  Two  Sabbaths  we 
have  been  in  such  alarm  that  we  have  had  no  meet 
ing  ;  this  day  we  have  sat  under  our  own  vine  in 
quietness  ;  have  heard  Mr.  Taft,  from  Psalms,  "  The 
Lord  is  good  to  all,  and  his  tender  mercies  are  over 
all  his  works."  The  good  man  was  earnest  and 
pathetic  ;  I  could  forgive  his  weakness  for  the  sake  of 
his  sincerity,  but  I  long  for  a  Cooper  and  an  Eliot. 

1  This  was  below  the  truth  ;  but  accuracy  in  these   details 
will  not  be  looked  for  in  a  letter  written  at  the  moment,  upon 
information  necessarily  defective. 

2  The  younger  generation  of  the  present  day  may  need  to  be 
reminded  that  the  "  far  country,"   a  letter  from  which  had 
arrived  '•  in  seven  days  only"  was  Philadelphia. 

3  It  is  a  little  singular,  that  the  letter  written  upon  that  day, 
gives  her  the  first  intelligence  of  the  election  of  Washington 
to  the  chief  command. 


46  LETTERS. 

I  want  a  person,  who  has  feeling  and  sensibility,  who 

can  take  one  up  with  him, 

And  "  in  his  duty  prompt,  at  every  call," 

Can  "  watch,  and  weep,  and  pray,  and  feel  for  all." 

Mr.  Rice  joins  General  Heath's  regiment  to-mor 
row,  as  adjutant.  Your  brother  is  very  desirous  of 
being  in  the  army,  but  your  good  mother  is  really 
violent  against  it.  I  cannot  persuade  nor  reason  her 
into  a  consent.  Neither  he  nor  I  dare  let  her  know 
that  he  is  trying  for  a  place.  My  brother  has  a 
captain's  commission,  and  is  stationed  at  Cambridge. 
I  thought  you  had  the  best  of  intelligence,  or  I 
should  have  taken  pains  to  be  more  particular.  As 
to  Boston,  there  are  many  persons  yet  there,  who 
would  be  glad  to  get  out  if  they  could.  Mr.  Boyls- 
ton,  and  Mr.  Gill,  the  printer,  with  his  family,  are 
held  upon  the  black  list,  it  is  said.  'Tis  certain 
they  watch  them  so  narrowly,  that  they  cannot  es 
cape.  Mr.  Mather  got  out  a  day  or  two  before 
Charlestown  was  destroyed,  and  had  lodged  his  pa 
pers  and  what  else  he  got  out,  at  Mr.  Gary's,  but 
they  were  all  consumed  ;  so  were  many  other  peo 
ple's,  who  thought  they  might  trust  their  little  there, 
till  teams  could  be  procured  to  remove  them.  The 
people  from  the  almshouse  and  workhouse  were  sent 
to  the  lines,  last  week,  to  make  room  for  their 
wounded,  they  say.  Medford  people  are  all  re 
moved.  Every  seaport  seems  in  motion.  O  North, 
may  the  groans  and  cries  of  the  injured  and  oppress 
ed  harrow  up  thy  soul.  We  have  a  prodigious  ar 
my,  but  we  lack  many  accommodations,  which  we 


LETTERS.  47 

need.  I  hope  the  appointment  of  these  new  gener 
als  will  give  satisfaction  ;  they  must  be  proof  against 
calumny.  In  a  contest  like  this,  continual  reports 
are  circulated  by  our  enemies,  and  they  catch  with 
the  unwary  and  the  gaping  crowd,  who  are  ready 
to  listen  to  the  marvellous,  without  considering  of 
consequences,  even  though  their  best  friends  are 
injured. 

I  have  not  ventured  to  inquire  one  word  of  you 
about  your  return.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  ought 
to  wish  for  it ;  it  seems  as  if  your  sitting  together 
was  absolutely  necessary,  whilst  every  day  is  big 
with  events. 

Mr.  Bowdoin  called  Friday,  and  took  his  leave  of 
me,  desiring  I  would  present  his  affectionate  regards 
to  you.  I  have  hopes  that  he  will  recover,  he  has 
mended  a  good  deal.  He  wished  he  could  have 
stayed  in  Braintree,  but  his  lady  was  fearful. 
Yours  evermore, 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  5  July,  1775. 

I  HAVE  received  a  good  deal  of  paper  from  you.  I 
wish  it  had  been  more  covered  ;  the  writing  is  very 
scant,  yet  I  must  not  grumble.  I  know  your  time  is 
not  yours  nor  mine.  Your  labors  must  be  great  and 
your  mouth  closed  ;  but  all  you  may  communicate,  I 


48  LETTERS. 

beg  you  would.  There  is  a  pleasure,  I  know  not 
whence  it  ai'ises,  nor  can  I  stop  now  to  find  it  out, 
but  I  say  there  is  a  degree  of  pleasure  in  being  able 
to  tell  news,  especially  any  that  so  nearly  concerns 
us,  as  all  your  proceedings  do. 

I  should  have  been  more  particular,  but  I  thought 
you  knew  every  thing  that  passed  here.  The  pres 
ent  state  of  the  inhabitants  of  Boston  is  that  of  the 
most  abject  slaves,  under  the  most  cruel  and  despotic 
of  tyrants.  Among  many  instances  I  could  men 
tion,  let  me  relate  one-  Upon  the  17th  of  June, 
printed  handbills  were  posted  up  at  the  corners  of 
the  streets  and  upon  houses,  forbidding  any  inhabit 
ants  to  go  upon  their  houses,  or  upon  any  eminence, 
on  pain  of  death ;  the  inhabitants  dared  not  to  look 
out  of  their  houses,  nor  to  be  heard  or  seen  to  ask 
a  question.  Our  prisoners  were  brought  over  to  the 
Long  Wharf,  and  there  lay  all  night,  without  any 
care  of  their  wounds  or  any  resting-place  but  the 
pavements,  until  the  next  day,  when  they  exchanged 
it  for  the  jail,  since  which  we  hear  they  are  civilly 
treated.  Their  living  cannot  be  good,  as  they  can 
have  no  fresh  provisions  ;  their  beef,  we  hear,  is  all 
gone,  and  their  own  wounded  men  die  very  fast,  so 
that  they  have  a  report  that  the  bullets  were  poison 
ed.  Fish  they  cannot  have,  they  have  rendered  it 
so  difficult  to  procure ;  and  the  admiral  is  such  a 
villain  as  to  oblige  every  fishing  schooner  to  pay  a 
dollar  every  time  it  goes  out.  The  money  that  has 
been  paid  for  passes  is  incredible.  Some  have  given 
ten,  twenty,  thirty,  and  forty  dollars,  to  get  out  with 


LETTERS.  49 

a  small  proportion  of  their  things.  It  is  reported 
and  believed,  that  they  have  taken  up  a  number  of 
persons  and  committed  them  to  jail,  we  know  not  for 
what  in  particular.  Master  Lovell  is  confined  in  the 
dungeon  ;  a  son  of  Mr.  Edes  is  in  jail,  and  one  Wi- 
burt,  a  ship  carpenter,  is  now  upon  trial  for  his  life. 
God  alone  knows  to  what  length  these  wretches  will 
go,  and  will  I  hope  restrain  their  malice. 

I  would  not  have  you  be  distressed  about  me. 
Danger,  they  say,  makes  people  valiant.  Hitherto 
I  have  been  distressed,  but  not  dismayed.  I  have 
felt  for  my  country  and  her  sons,  and  have  bled 
with  them  and  for  them.  Not  all  the  havoc  and 
devastation  they  have  made,  has  wounded  me  like 
the  death  of  Warren.  We  want  him  in  the  Senate  ; 
we  want  him  in  his  profession  ;  we  want  him  in  the 
field.  We  mourn  for  the  citizen,  the  senator,  the 
physician,  and  the  warrior.  May  we  have  others 
raised  up  in  his  room. 

I  have  had  a  very  kind  and  friendly  visit  from  our 
dear  friends  Colonel  Warren,  lady,  and  son.  Mrs. 
Warren  spent  almost  a  week  with  me,  and  he  came 
and  met  her  here,  and  kept  Sabbath  with  me.  I 
suppose  she  will  write  to  you,  though  she  says  you 
are  in  her  debt. 

You  scarcely  make  mention  of  Dr.  Franklin. 
Surely  he  must  be  a  valuable  member.  Pray,  what 
is  become  of  your  Judas  r1  I  see  he  is  not  with 

1  It  is  uncertain  who  is  alluded  to  here  ;  probably  Mr.  Gal 
loway  of  Pennsylvania,  who  was  a  member  of  the  first  Con- 
VOL.    I.  4 


50  LETTERS. 

you  upon  the  list  of  delegates.  I  wish  I  could  come 
and  see  you.  I  never  suffer  myself  to  think  you  are 
about  returning  soon.  Can  it,  will  it  be  ?  May  I 
ask  —  may  I  wish  for  it  ?  When  once  I  expect  you, 
the  time  will  crawl  till  I  see  you.  But  hush  !  Do 
you  know  it  is  eleven  o'clock  at  night  ?  We  have 
had  some  very  fine  rains  since  I  wrote  you  last.  I 
hope  we  shall  not  now  have  famine  added  to  war. 
Grain,  grain  is  what  we  want  here.  Meat  we  have 
enough,  and  to  spare.  Pray  don't  let  Bass  forget  my 
pins.  Hardwick  has  applied  to  me  for  Mr.  Bass  to 
get  him  a  hundred  of  needles,  number  six,  to  carry 
on  his  stocking  weaving.  We  shall  very  soon  have 
no  coffee,  nor  sugar,  nor  pepper  here  ;  but  whortle 
berries  and  milk  we  are  not  obliged  to  commerce 
for.  Good  night.  With  thoughts  of  thee  do  I  close 
my  eyes.  Angels  guard  and  protect  thee  ;  and  may 
a  safe  return  ere  long  bless  thy 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  16  July,  1775. 

DEAREST  FRIEND, 

I  HAVE  seen  your  letters  to  Colonels  Palmer  and 
Warren.  I  pity  your  embarrassments.  How  diffi 
cult  the  task  to  quench  the  fire  and  the  pride  of  pri- 

gress.  resisted  the  measures  adopted  by  it,  and  subsequently 
became  one  of  the  most  active  of  the  loyal  refugees. 


LETTERS.  51 

vate  ambition,  and  to  sacrifice  ourselves  and  all  our 
hopes  and  expectations  to  the  public  weal  I  How 
few  have  souls  capable  of  so  noble  an  undertaking  ! 
How  often  are  the  laurels  worn  by  those  who  have 
had  no  share  in  earning  them  !  But  there  is  a  future 
recompense  of  reward,  to  which  the  upright  man 
looks,  and  which  he  will  most  assuredly  obtain,  pro 
vided  he  perseveres  unto  the  end. 

The  appointment  of  the  generals  Washington  and 
Lee  gives  universal  satisfaction.  The  people  have 
the  highest  opinion  of  Lee's  abilities,  but  you  know 
the  continuation  of  the  popular  breath  depends  much 
upon  favorable  events.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  see 
ing  both  the  generals  and  their  aids-de-camp  soon 
after  their  arrival,  and  of  being  personally  made 
known  to  them.  They  very  politely  express  their 
regard  for  you.  Major  Mifflin  said  he  had  orders 
from  you  to  visit  me  at  Braintree.  I  told  him  I 
should  be  very  happy  to  see  him  there,  and  accord 
ingly  sent  Mr.  Thaxter  to  Cambridge  with  a  card,  to 
him  and  Mr.  Read,  to  dine  with  me.  Mrs.  Warren 
and  her  son  were  to  be  with  me.  They  very  po 
litely  received  the  message,  and  lamented  that  they 
were  not  able  to  come,  upon  account  of  expresses 
which  they  were  on  that  day  to  get  in  readiness  to 
send  off, 

I  was  struck  with  General  Washington.  You  had 
prepared  me  to  entertain  a  favorable  opinion  of  him, 
but  I  thought  the  half  was  not  told  me.  Dignity 
with  ease  and  complacency,  the  gentleman  and  sol 
dier,  look  agreeably  blended  in  him.  Modesty  marks 


OxS  LETTERS. 

every  line  and  feature  of  his  face.     Those  lines  of 
Dryden  instantly  occurred  to  rne  ; 

"  Mark  his  majestic  fabric  !  he  's  a  temple 
Sacred  by  birth,  and  built  by  hands  divine; 
His  soul 's  the  deity  that  lodges  there  ; 
Nor  is  the  pile  unworthy  of  the  god." 

General  Lee  looks  like  a  careless,  hardy  veteran, 
and,  by  his  appearance,  brought  to  my  mind  his 
namesake,  Charles  the  Twelfth,  of  Sweden.  The 
elegance  of  his  pen  far  exceeds  that  of  his  person. 

You  have  made  frequent  complaints  that  your 
friends  do  not  write  to  you.  I  have  stirred  up  some 
of  them.  May  not  I  in  my  turn  make  complaints  ? 
All  the  letters  I  receive  from  you  seem  to  be  written 
in  so  much  haste,  that  they  scarcely  leave  room  for 
a  social  feeling.  They  let  me  know  that  you  exist, 
but  some  of  them  contain  scarcely  six  lines.  I  want 
some  sentimental  effusions  of  the  heart.  I  am  sure 
you  are  not  destitute  of  them  ;  or  are  they  all  ab 
sorbed  in  the  great  public  ?  Much  is  due  to  that,  I 
know  ;  but,  being  part  of  the  public,  I  lay  claim  to  a 
larger  share  than  I  have  had.  You  used  to  be  more 
communicative  on  Sundays.  I  always  loved  a  Sab 
bath  day's  letter,  for  then  you  had  a  greater  com 
mand  of  your  time  ;  but  hush  to  all  complaints. 

I  am  much  surprised  that  you  have  not  been  more 
accurately  informed  of  what  passes  in  the  camps. 
As  to  intelligence  from  Boston,  it  is  but  very  seldom 
we  are  able  to  collect  any  thing  that  may  be  relied 
on  ;  and  to  report  the  vague,  flying  rumors,  would  be 
endless.  I  heard  yesterday,  by  one  Mr.  Roulstone, 


LETTERS.  53 

a  goldsmith,  who  got  out  in  a  fishing  schooner,  that 
their  distress  increased  upon  them  fast.  Their  beef 
is  all  spent ;  their  malt  and  cider  all  gone.  All  the 
fresh  provisions  they  can  procure,  they  are  obliged 
to  give  to  the  sick  and  wounded.  Thirteen  of  our 

o 

men  who  were  in  jail,  and  were  wounded  at  the  bat 
tle  of  Charlestown,  were  dead.  No  man  dared  now 
to  be  seen  talking  to  his  friend  in  the  street.  They 
were  obliged  to  be  within,  every  evening,  at  ten 
o'clock,  according  to  martial  law  ;  nor  could  any 
inhabitant  walk  any  street  in  town  after  that  time, 
without  a  pass  from  Gage.  He  has  ordered  all  the 
molasses  to  be  distilled  up  into  rum  for  the  soldiers ; 
taken  away  all  licenses,  and  given  out  others,  ob 
liging  to  a  forfeiture  of  ten  pounds,  if  any  rum  is  sold 
without  written  orders  from  the  general.  He  gives 
much  the  same  account  of  the  killed  and  wounded 
we  have  from  others.  The  spirit,  he  says,  which 
prevails  among  the  soldiers,  is  a  spirit  of  malice  and 
revenge ;  there  is  no  true  courage  and  bravery  to  be 
observed  among  them.  Their  duty  is  hard,  always 
mounting  guard  with  their  packs  at  their  backs, 
ready  for  an  alarm,  which  they  live  in  continual  haz 
ard  of.  Dr.  Eliot  is  not  on  board  a  man-of-war,  as 
has  been  reported,  but  perhaps  was  left  in  town,  as 
the  comfort  and  support  of  those  who  cannot  escape. 
He  was  constantly  with  our  prisoners.  Messrs.  Lov- 
ell  and  Leach,  with  others,  are  certainly  in  jail.  A 
poor  milch  cow  was  last  week  killed  in  town,  and 
sold  for  a  shilling  sterling  per  pound.  The  trans 
ports  arrived  last  week  from  York,  but  every  addi- 


54  LETTERS. 

tional  man  adds  to  their  distress.  There  has  been  a 
little  expedition  this  week  to  Long  Island.1  There 
have  been,  before,  several  attempts  to  go  on,  but 
three  men-of-war  lay  near,  and  cutters  all  round  the 
island,  so  that  they  could  not  succeed.  A  number 
of  whaleboats  lay  at  Germantown.  Three  hundred 
volunteers,  commanded  by  one  Captain  Tupper, 
came  on  Monday  evening  and  took  the  boats,  went 
on,  and  brought  off  seventy  odd  sheep,  fifteen  head 
of  cattle,  and  sixteen  prisoners,  thirteen  of  whom 
were  sent  by  (Simple  Sapling)2  to  mow  the  hay, 
which  they  had  very  badly  executed.  They  were 
all  asleep  in  the  house  and  barn.  When  they  were 
taken,  there  were  three  women  with  them.  Our 
heroes  came  off  in  triumph,  not  being  observed  by 
their  enemies.  This  spirited  up  others,  who  could 
not  endure  the  thought  that  the  house  and  barn 
should  afford  them  any  shelter ;  —  they  did  not  de 
stroy  them  the  night  before  for  fear  of  being  dis 
covered.  Captain  Wild,  of  this  town,  with  about 
twenty-five  of  his  company  ;  Captain  Gold,  of  Wey- 
mouth,  with  as  many  of  his,  and  some  other  volun 
teers,  to  the  amount  of  a  hundred,  obtained  leave  to 
go  on  and  destroy  the  hay,  together  with  the  house 
and  barn ;  and  in  open  day,  in  full  view  of  the  men- 
of-war,  they  set  off  from  the  Moon?  so  called,  cov- 

1  In  Boston  harbor.     This  event  is  repeatedly  noticed  in 
"The  Remembrancer,"  for  1775,  pp.  242,  257,  262. 

2  These  are  the  words  in  the  original,  but  the  Editor  cannot 
explain  them. 

3  The  name  given  to  a  small  island  in  Boston  harbor. 


LETTERS.  55 

ered  by  a  number  of  men  who  were  placed  there, 
—  went  on  and  set  fire  to  the  buildings  and  hay. 
A  number  of  armed  cutters  immediately  surrounded 
the  island  and  fired  upon  our  men.  They  came  off 
with  a  hot  and  continued  fire  upon  them,  the  bullets 
flying  in  every  direction,  and  the  men-of-war's  boats 
plying  them  with  small  arms.  Many  in  this  town, 
who  were  spectators,  expected  every  moment  our 
men  would  all  be  sacrificed,  for  sometimes  they 
were  so  near  as  to  be  called  and  damned  by  their 
enemies,  and  ordered  to  surrender ;  yet  they  all  re 
turned  in  safety,  not  one  man  even  wounded.  Upon 
the  Moon  we  lost  one  man,  from  the  cannon  on 
board  the  man-of-war.  On  the  evening  of  the  same 
day,  a  man-of-war  came  and  anchored  near  Great 
Hill,  and  two  cutters  came  to  Pig  Rocks.  It  occa 
sioned  an  alarm  in  this  town,  and  we  were  up  all 
night.  They  remain  there  yet,  but  have  not  ventured 
to  land  any  men. 

This  town  have  chosen  their  representative.  Co 
lonel  Palmer  is  the  man.  There  was  a  considerable 
muster  upon  Thayer's  side,  and  Vinton's  company 
marched  up  in  order  to  assist,  but  got  sadly  disap 
pointed.  Newcomb  insisted  upon  it  that  no  man 
should  vote  who  was  in  the  army.  He  had  no  no 
tion  of  being  under  the  military  power ;  said  we 
might  be  so  situated  as  to  have  the  greater  part  of 
the  people  engaged  in  the  military,  and  then  all 
power  would  be  wrested  out  of  the  hands  of  the  civil 
magistrate.  He  insisted  upon  its  being  put  to  vote, 
and  carried  his  point  immediately.  It  brought 


56  LETTERS. 

Thayer  to  his  speech,  who  said  all  he  could  against 
it. 

As  to  the  situation  of  the  camps,  our  men  are  in 
general  healthy,  much  more  so  at  Roxbury  than  at 
Cambridge,  and  the  camp  is  in  vastly  better  order. 
General  Thomas  has  the  character  of  an  excellent 
officer.  His  merit  has  certainly  been  overlooked,  as 
modest  merit  generally  is.  I  hear  General  Washing 
ton  is  much  pleased  with  his  conduct. 

Every  article  here  in  the  West  India  way  is  very 
scarce  and  dear.  In  six  weeks  we  shall  not  be  able 
to  purchase  any  article  of  the  kind.  I  wish  you  would 
let  Bass  get  me  one  pound  of  pepper,  and  two  yards 
of  black  calamanco  for  shoes.  I  cannot  wear  leath 
er,  if  I  go  barefoot.  Bass  may  make  a  fine  profit 
if  he  lays  in  a  stock  for  himself.  You  can  hardly 
imagine  how  much  we  want  many  common  small 
articles,  which  are  not  manufactured  amongst  our 
selves  ;  but  we  will  have  them  in  time  ;  not  one  pin 
to  be  purchased  for  love  or  money.  I  wish  you 
could  convey  me  a  thousand  by  any  friend  travelling 
this  way.  It  is  very  provoking  to  have  such  a  plenty 
so  near  us,  but,  Tantalus-like,  not  be  able  to  touch. 
I  should  have  been  glad  to  have  laid  in  a  small  stock 
of  the  West  India  articles,  but  I  cannot  get  one  cop 
per  ;  no  person  thinks  of  paying  any  thing,  and  I  do 
not  choose  to  run  in  debt. 

We  have  not  yet  been  much  distressed  for  grain. 
Every  thing  at  present  looks  blooming.  O  that  peace 
would  once  more  extend  her  olive  branch  ; 


LETTERS.  57 

"  This  day  be  bread  and  peace  my  lot; 

All  else  beneath  the  sun, 
Thou  knowest  if  best  bestowed  or  not, 

And  let  thy  will  be  done." 

"  But  is  the  Almighty  ever  bound  to  please, 
Build  by  my  wish,  or  studious  of  my  ease  ? 
Shall  I  determine  where  his  frowns  shall  fall, 
And  fence  my  grotto  from  the  lot  of  all  ? 
Prostrate,  his  sovereign  wisdom  I  adore, 
Intreat  his  mercy,  but  I  dare  no  more." 

I  have  now  written  you  all  I  can  collect  from  every 
quarter.  'T  is  fit  for  no  eyes  but  yours,  because  you 
can  make  all  necessary  allowances.  I  cannot  copy. 

There  are  yet  in  town  three  of  the  selectmen  and 
some  thousands  of  inhabitants,  't  is  said.  I  hope  to 
hear  from  you  soon.  Do  let  me  know  if  there  is 
any  prospect  of  seeing  you  ?  Next  Wednesday  is 
thirteen  weeks  since  you  went  away.  I  must  bid 
you  adieu. 

You  have  many  friends,  though  they  have  not  no 
ticed  you  by  writing.     I  am  sorry  they  have  been  so 
negligent.     I  hope  no  share  of  that  blame  lies  upon 
Your  most  affectionate 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADA.MS. 

Braintree,  25  July,  1775. 

DEAREST    FRIEND, 

I  RECEIVED  yours  of  July  7th,  for  which  I  heartily 
thank  you.     It  was  the  longest  and  best  letter  I  have 


58  LETTERS. 

had  ;  the  most  leisurely,  and  therefore  the  most  sen 
timental.  Previous  to  your  last,  I  had  written  you 
and  made  some  complaints  of  you,  but  I  will  take 
them  all  back  again.  Only  continue  your  obliging 
favors,  whenever  your  time  will  allow  you  to  devote 
one  moment  to  your  absent  Portia. 

This  is  the  25th  of  July.  Gage  has  not  made  any 
attempts  to  march  out  since  the  battle  at  Charles- 
town.  Our  army  is  restless,  and  wish  to  be  doing 
something  to  rid  themselves  and  the  land  of  the  ver 
min  and  locusts  which  infest  it.  Since  I  wrote  you 
last,  the  companies  stationed  upon  the  coast,  both  in 
this  town,  Weymouth,  and  Hingham,  were  ordered 
to  Nantasket,  to  reap  and  bring  off  the  grain,  which 
they  accomplished,  all  except  a  field  or  two  which 
was  not  ripe  ;  and  having  whaleboats,  they  under 
took  to  go  to  the  Lighthouse  and  set  fire  to  it,  which 
they  effected  in  open  day,  and  in  fair  sight  of  several 
men-of-war.  Upon  their  return,  came  down  upon 
them  eight  barges,  one  cutter,  and  one  schooner,  all 
in  battle  array,  and  poured  whole  broad  sides  upon 
them  ;  but  our  men  all  reached  the  shore,  and  not 
one  life  lost,  two  only  slightly  wounded  in  their  legs. 
They  marched  up  a  hill,  and  drew  into  order,  in 
hopes  the  marines  would  land  ;  but  they  chose  rather 
to  return  without  a  land  engagement,  though  't  is 
thought  they  will  burn  the  town  down  as  soon  as  our 
forces  leave  it.  I  had  this  account  from  Captain 
Vinton,  who  with  his  company  were  there.  These 
little  skirmishes  seem  trifling,  but  they  serve  to  inure 
our  men,  and  harden  them  to  danger.  I  hear  the 


LETTERS.  59 

rebels  are  very  wroth  at  the  destruction  of  the  light 
house. 

There  has  been  an  offer  from  Gage  to  send  the 
poor  of  Boston  to  Salem  by  water,  but  not  complied 
with  on  our  part ;  they  returned  for  answer,  they 
would  receive  them  upon  the  lines.  Dr.  Tufts  saw 
a  letter  from  Deacon  Newall,  in  which  he  mentions 
the  death  of  John  Cotton  ;  he  says  it  is  very  sickly  in 
town.  Every  fishing  vessel  is  now  obliged  to  enter 
and  clear  out,  as  though  she  was  going  a  foreign 
voyage.  No  inhabitant  is  suffered  to  partake,  but 
obliged  to  wait  till  the  army  is  supplied,  and  then,  if 
one  remains,  they  are  allowed  to  purchase  it.  An 
order  has  been  given  out  in  town,  that  no  person 
shall  be  seen  to  wipe  his  face  with  a  white  hand 
kerchief.  The  reason  I  hear  is,  that  it  is  a  signal  of 
mutiny.  General  Burgoyne  lives  in  Mr.  Sam  Quin- 
cy's  house.  A  lady,  who  lived  opposite,  says  she 
saw  raw  meat  cut  and  hacked  upon  her  mahogany 
tables,  and  her  superb  damask  curtain  and  cushions 
exposed  to  the  rain  as  if  they  were  of  no  value. 
How  much  better  do  the  Tories  fare  than  the  Whigs  ? 
I  suppose  this  worthy,  good  man  was  put  in  with  all 
confidence  that  nothing  should  be  hurt. 

I  was  very  much  pleased  with  General  Lee's  let 
ter,1  and  really  entertained  a  more  favorable  opinion 
of  Burgoyne  than  I  before  had  imbibed  from  his 
speech ;  but  a  late  letter  from  London,  written  to  Mr. 


1  This  correspondence   between   Lee   and  Burgoyne,  is  in 
"  The  Remembrancer,"  for  1775,  pp.  150  ct  scq. 


60  LETTERS. 

Josiah  Quincy,  and,  in  case  of  his  absence,  to  be 
opened  either  by  you  or  Mr.  Samuel  Adams,  or  either 
of  the  Warrens,  has  left  me  no  room  to  think  that 
he  is  possessed  either  of  generosity,  virtue,  or  human 
ity.  His  character  runs  thus  ; 

"As  to  Burgoyne,1  I  am  not  master  of  language 
sufficient  to  give  you  a  true  idea  of  the  horrible 
wickedness  of  the  man.  His  designs  are  dark  ;  his 
dissimulation  of  the  deepest  dye  ;  for,  not  content 
with  deceiving  mankind,  he  practises  deceit  on  God 
himself,  by  assuming  the  appearance  (like  Hutchin- 
son)  of  great  attention  to  religious  worship,  when 
every  action  of  his  life  is  totally  abhorrent  to  all 
ideas  of  true  religion,  virtue,  or  common  honesty. 
An  abandoned,  infamous  gambler,  of  broken  fortune, 
and  the  worst  and  most  detestable  of  the  Bedford 
gang,  who  are  wholly  bent  on  blood,  tyranny,  and 
spoil,  and  therefore  the  darling  favorite  of  our  unri 
valled  ruler,  Lord  Bute." 

The  character  of  Howe  is  not  drawn  much  more 
favorably,  but  Clinton's  general  character  very  good, 
and  'tis  said  he  does  not  relish  the  service  he  is  sent 
upon.  I  am  ready  to  believe  this  of  Clinton,  as  I 
have  never  heard  of  any  speeches  of  his  since  his 
arrival,  nor  scarcely  any  mention  of  him.  That 
such  characters  as  Burgoyne  and  Howe  should  en 
gage  in  such  a  cause  is  not  to  be  wondered  at ;  but  it 

1  Much  allowance  must  occasionally  be  made  for  the  ex 
citement  naturally  growing  out  of  the  circumstances  of  the 
war.  General  Burgoyne  by  no  means  bore  any  such  charac 
ter  as  this. 


LETTERS.  61 

is  really  to  be  lamented,  when  a  man,  possessed  of 
one  spark  of  virtue,  should  be  drawn  aside,  and  dis 
grace  himself  and  posterity  by  adding  one  more  to 
the  already  infamous  list.  I  suppose  you  have  heard 
of  Darby's  arrival,1  and  the  intelligence  he  brings.  I 
could  not  refrain  wishing  them  everlasting  fetters  ; 
"  the  news  received  with  some  symptoms  of  pleas 
ure,"  and  "  our  friends  increased,"  and  a  few  more 
such  sugar  plums.  Were  they  suffering  as  we  are, 
could  Americans  sit  thus  coldly  whilst  Britons  were 
bleeding  ?  How  is  it  possible,  that  the  love  of  gain 
and  the  lust  of  domination  should  render  the  human 
mind  so  callous  to  every  principle  of  honor,  generos 
ity,  and  benevolence  ? 

May  that  day  be  far  distant  from  America,  when 
"  trade's  unfeeling  train,"  shall  "  usurp  this  land, 
and  dispossess  the  swain." 

"  111  fares  the  land,  to  hastening  ills  a  prey, 
Where  wealth  accumulates,  and  men  decay  ; 
Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade  ; 
A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made  ; 
But  a  bold  peasantry,  their  country's  pride, 
When  once  destroyed,  can  never  be  supplied." 

Your  address  meets  with  general  approbation  here  ; 
your  petitioning  the  King  again,  pleases  (forgive  me 
if  I  say  the  timid  and  the  weak)  those  persons  who 
were  esteemed  the  lukewarm,  and  who  think  no 
works  of  supererogation  can  be  performed  to  Great 

1  From  England. 


62  LETTERS. 

Britain  ;  whilst  others  say  you  heap  coals  of  fire 
upon  the  heads  of  your  enemies.  You  know  you 
are  considered  here  as  a  most  perfect  body  ;  if  one 
member  is  by  any  means  rendered  incapable  of  act 
ing,  't  is  supposed  the  deficiency  will  be  made  up. 
The  query  is,  why  your  President  left  the  Congress 
so  long  as  to  make  it  necessary  to  choose  another 
member,  —  whether  he  declined  returning  to  you 
again  ? 

I  suppose  you  have  a  list  of  our  Council.  It  was 
generally  thought  that  Gage  would  make  an  attempt 
to  come  out  either  Election  day,  or  upon  the  Fast ; 
but  I  could  not  believe  we  should  be  disturbed  upon 
that  day.  Even  "  the  devils  believe  and  tremble,"  and 
I  really  believe  they  are  more  afraid  of  the  Ameri 
cans'  prayers  than  of  their  swords.  I  could  not  bear 
to  hear  our  inanimate  old  bachelor.  Mrs.  Cranch 
and  I  took  our  chaise  and.  went  to  hear  Mr.  Haven, 
of  Declham,  and  we  had  no  occasion  to  repent  eleven 
miles'  ride  ;  especially  as  I  had  the  pleasure  of  spend 
ing  the  day  with  my  namesake  and  sister  delegate. 
Why  should  we  not  assume  your  titles  when  we  give 
you  up  our  names  ?  I  found  her  comfortably  situ 
ated  in  a  little  country  cottage,  with  patience,  perse 
verance,  and  fortitude  for  her  companions,  and  in 
better  health  than  she  has  enjoyed  for  many  months 
past. 

I  fear  General  Thomas  being  overlooked,  and 
Heath  placed  over  him,  will  create  much  uneasiness. 
I  know  not  who  was  to  blame,  but  it  is  likely  to 
make  a  great  and  fatal  gap  in  the  army.  If  Tho- 


LETTERS.  63 

mas  resigns,  all  his  officers  resign  ;  and  Mr.  Thomas 
cannot  with  honor  hold  under  Heath.  The  camp 
will  evince  to  every  eye  how  good  an  officer  he  has 
been  ;  but  this  is  out  of  my  sphere.  I  only  say  what 
others  say,  and  what  the  general  disposition  of  the 
people  is. 

I  need  not  say  how  much  I  want  to  see  you,  but 
no  one  will  credit  my  story  of  your  returning  in  a 
month.  I  hope  to  have  the  best  of  proofs  to  convince 
them. 

It  cannot  need  any  to  convince  you  how  sincerely 
I  am  your  affectionate 

PORTIA. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  31  July,  1775. 

I  DO  not  feel  easy  more  than  two  days  together 
without  writing  to  you.  If  you  abound,  you  must 
lay  some  of  the  fault  upon  yourself,  who  have  made 
such  sad  complaints  for  letters  ;  but  I  really  believe 
I  have  written  more  than  all  -my  sister  delegates. 
There  is  nothing  new  transpired  since  I  wrote  you 
last,  but  the  sailing  of  some  transports,  and  five  de 
serters  having  come  into  our  camp.  One  of  them 
is  gone,  I  hear,  to  Philadelphia.  I  think  I  should  be 
cautious  of  him.  No  one  can  tell  the  secret  designs 
of  such  fellows,  whom  no  oath  binds.  He  may  be 


64  LETTERS. 

sent  with  assassinating  designs.  I  can  credit  any 
villany,  that  a  Csesar  Borgia  would  have  been  guilty 
of,  or  Satan  himself  would  rejoice  in.  Those  who 
do  not  scruple  to  bring  poverty,  misery,  slavery,  and 
death  upon  thousands,  will  not  hesitate  at  the  most 
diabolical  crimes ;  and  this  is  Britain.  Blush,  O 
Americans,  that  ever  you  derived  your  origin  from 
such  a  race. 

We  learn  from  one  of  these  deserters,  that  our 
ever  valued  friend,  Warren,  dear  to  us  even  in  death, 
was  not  treated  with  any  more  respect  than  a  com 
mon  soldier ;  but  the  savage  wretches,  called  officers, 
consulted  together,  and  agreed  to  sever  his  head 
from  his  body  and  carry  it  in  triumph  to  Gage,  who 
no  doubt  would  have  "  grinned  horribly  a  ghastly 
smile,"  instead  of  imitating  Csesar,  who  far  from  be 
ing  gratified  with  so  horrid  a  spectacle  as  the  head 
even  of  his  enemy,  turned  away  from  Pompey's  with 
disgust,  and  gave  vent  to  his  pity  in  a  flood  of  tears. 
How  much  does  Pagan  tenderness  put  Christian 
benevolence  to  shame  !  What  humanity  could  not 
obtain,  the  rites  and  ceremonies  of  a  mason  demand 
ed.  An  officer,  who,  it  seems,  was  one  of  the  brother 
hood,  requested,  that  as  a  mason,  he  might  have  the 
body  unmangled,  and  find  a  decent  interment  for  it. 
He  obtained  his  request,  but,  upon  returning  to  secure 
it,  he  found  it  already  thrown  into  the  earth,  only  with 
the  ceremony  of  being  first  placed  there  with  many 
bodies  over  him ; 

"  Nor  writ  his  name,  whose  tomb  should  pierce  the  skies." 


LETTERS.  65 

"  Glows  my  resentment  into  guilt  ?     What  guilt 
Can  equal  violations  of  the  dead  ? 
The  dead  how  sacred  !    Sacred  is  the  dust 
Of  this  heaven-labored  form,  erect,  divine  ! 
This  heaven-assumed,  majestic  robe  of  earth." 

2  August. 

Thus  far  I  wrote  and  broke  off;  hearing  there  was 
a  probability  of  your  return,  I  thought  not  to  send  it ; 
but  the  reception  of  yours  this  morning,  of  July  23d, 
makes  me  think  the  day  further  off  than  I  hoped.  I 
therefore  will  add  a  few  lines,  though  very  unfit.  I 
went  out  yesterday  to  attend  the  funeral  of  the  poor 
fellow  who,  the  night  before,  fell  in  battle,  as  they 
were  returning  from  the  lighthouse  ;  I  caught  some 
cold.  Sabbath  evening  there  was  a  warm  fire  from 
Prospect  Hill  and  Bunker's  Hill,  begun  first  by  the 
riflemen  taking  off  their  guard.  Two  men  upon  our 
side  were  killed  ;  five  of  their  guards  were  killed, 
two  taken.  I  believe  my  account  will  be  very  con 
fused,  but  I  will  relate  it  as  well  as  I  am  able.1  Sab 
bath  evening  a  number  of  men,  in  whaleboats,  went 
off  from  Squantum  and  Dorchester,  to  the  lighthouse, 
where  the  general,  Gage,  had  again  fixed  up  a  lamp, 
and  sent  twelve  carpenters  to  repair  it.  Our  people 
went  on  amidst  a  hot  fire  from  thirty  marines,  who 
were  placed  there  as  a  guard  to  the  Tory  carpenters, 
burnt  the  dwell inghouse,  took  the  Tories  and  twenty- 
eight  marines,  killed  the  lieutenant  and  one  man, 

1  These  events  are  briefly  mentioned  in  "  The  Remem 
brancer,"  for  the  year  1775,  pp.  2G9,  270. 

VOL.   I.  5 


66  LETTERS. 

brought  off  all  the  oil  and  stores  which  were  sent, 
without  the  loss  of  a  man,  until  they  were  upon  their 
return  ;  when  they  were  so  closely  pursued,  that  they 
were  obliged  to  run  one  whaleboat  ashore,  and  leave 
her  to  them  ;  the  rest  arrived  safe,  except  the  unhap 
py  youth,  whose  funeral  I  yesterday  attended,  who 
received  a  ball  through  the  temple,  as  he  was  rowing 
the  boat.  He  belonged  to  Rhode  Island.  His  name 
was  Griffin.  He,  with  four  wounded  marines,  was 
brought  by  Captain  Turner  to  Germantown,  and 
buried  from  there  with  the  honors  of  war.  Mr.  Wi- 
bird,  upon  the  occasion,  made  the  best  oration  (he 
never  prays,  you  know,)  I  ever  heard  from  him.  The 
poor  wounded  fellows  (who  were  all  wounded  in 
their  arms)  desired  they  might  attend.  They  did, 
and  he  very  pathetically  addressed  them,  with  which 
they  appeared  affected.  I  spoke  with  them,  —  I  told 
them,  it  was  very  unhappy  that  they  should  be  obliged 
to  fight  their  best  friends.  They  said  they  were  sorry ; 
they  hoped  in  God  an  end  would  be  speedily  put  to 
the  unhappy  contest ;  when  they  came,  they  came  in 
the  way  of  their  duty,  to  relieve  Admiral  Montague, 
with  no  thought  of  fighting,  but  their  situation  was 
such  as  obliged  them  to  obey  orders  ;  but  they  wished 
with  all  their  souls,  that  they  that  sent  them  here 
had  been  in  the  heat  of  the  battle  ;  expressed  grati 
tude  at  the  kindness  they  received ;  and  said  in  that 
they  had  been  deceived,  for  they  were  told,  if  they 
were  taken  alive,  they  would  be  sacrificed  by  us. 
Dr.  Tufts  dressed  their  wounds. 

I  had  a  design  to  write  something  about  a  talked 


LETTERS.  67 

of  appointment  of  a  friend  of  mine  to  a  judicial  de 
partment,1  but  hope  soon  to  see  that  friend,  before 
his  acceptance  may  be  necessary.  I  enclose  a  com 
pliment,  copied  by  a  gentleman  from  a  piece  in  the 
Worcester  paper,  signed  "  Lycurgus." 

I  can  add  no  more,  as  the  good  Colonel  Palmer 
waits.  Only  my  compliments  to  Mrs.  Mifflin,  and 
tell  her  I  do  not  know  whether  her  husband  is  safe 
here.  Bellona  and  Cupid  have  a  contest  about  him. 
You  hear  nothing  from  the  ladies  but  about  Major 
Mifflin's  easy  address,  politeness,  complaisance,  &c. 
'T  is  well  he  has  so  agreeable  a  lady  at  Philadel 
phia.  They  know  nothing  about  forts,  intrench- 
ments,  &c.,  when  they  return  ;  or,  if  they  do,  they 
are  all  forgotten  and  swallowed  up  in  his  accom 
plishments. 

Adieu,  my  dearest  friend,  and  always  believe  me 
Unalterably  yours, 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS.2 

Weymouth,  1  October,  1775. 

HAVE  pity  upon  me.     Have  pity  upon  me,  O  thou 
my  beloved,  for  the  hand  of  God  presseth  me  sore. 

1  Mr.  Adams  was  made  Chief  Justice  of  the  State  Court, 
but  never  acted  in  that  capacity. 

2  Mr.  Adams  was  at  home  during  the  adjournment  of  Con 
gress,  from  the  1st  of  August,  to  the  5th  of  September. 


68  LETTERS. 

Yet  will  I  be  dumb  and  silent,  and  not  open  my 
mouth,  because  thou,  O  Lord,  hast  done  it. 

How  can  I  tell  you,  (O  my  bursting  heart!)  that 
my  dear  mother  has  left  me  ?  —  this  day,  about 
five  o'clock,  she  left  this  world  for  an  infinitely 
better. 

After  sustaining  sixteen  days'  severe  conflict,  na 
ture  fainted,  and  she  fell  asleep.  Blessed  spirit ! 
where  art  thou  ?  At  times,  I  am  almost  ready  to 
faint  under  this  severe  and  heavy  stroke,  separated 
from  tliee,  who  used  to  be  a  comforter  to  me  in 
affliction  ;  but,  blessed  be  God,  his  ear  is  not  heavy 
that  he  cannot  hear,  but  he  has  bid  us  call  upon  him 
in  time  of  trouble. 

I  know  you  are  a  sincere  and  hearty  mourner 
with  me,  and  will  pray  for  me  in  my  affliction.  My 
poor  father,  like  a  firm  believer  and  a  good  Chris 
tian,  sets  before  his  children  the  best  of  examples  of 
patience  and  submission.  My  sisters  send  their  love 
to  you,  and  are  greatly  afflicted.  You  often  express 
ed  your  anxiety  for  me  when  you  left  me  before, 
surrounded  with  terrors  ;  but  my  trouble  then  was 
as  the  small  dust  in  the  balance,  compared  to  what  I 
have  since  endured.  I  hope  to  be  properly  mindful 
of  the  correcting  hand,  that  I  may  not  be  rebuked  in 
anger.  , 

You  will  pardon  and  forgive  all  my  wanderings  of 
mind,  I  cannot  be  correct. 

'T  is  a  dreadful  time  with  the  whole  province. 
Sickness  and  death  are  in  almost  every  family.  I 


LETTERS.  69 

have  no  more  shocking  and  terrible  idea  of  any  dis 
temper,  except  the  plague,  than  this.1 

Almighty  God  !  restrain  the  pestilence  which  walk- 
eth  in  darkness  and  wasteth  at  noonday,  and  which 
has  laid  in  the  dust  one  of  the  dearest  of  parents. 
May  the  life  of  the  other  be  lengthened  out  to  his 
afflicted  children. 

From  your  distressed 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  21  October,  1775. 

THE  sickness  has  abated  here  and  in  the  neighbouring 
towns.  In  Boston  I  am  told  it  is  very  sickly  among 
the  inhabitants  and  the  soldiery.  By  a  man,  one 
Haskins,  who  came  out  the  day  before  yesterday,  I 
learn,  that  there  are  but  about  twenty-five  hundred  sol 
diers  in  town.  How  many  there  are  at  Charlestown, 
he  could  not  tell.  He  had  been  in  irons  three  weeks, 
some  malicious  fellow  having  said  that  he  saw  him 
at  the  battle  of  Lexington  ;  but  he  proved  that  he  was 
not  out  of  Boston  that  day,  upon  which  he  was  re- 

1  The  dysentery  prevailed  among  the  British  troops,  who 
were  great  sufferers  from  their  confinement  in  Boston,  and  it 
appears  to  have  spread  among  the  inhabitants  in  the  vicinity. 
Mrs.  Adams  lost,  besides  her  mother  and  a  brother  of  her  hus 
band,  a  domestic  in  her  own  house  ;  but  she  and  the  rest  of 
her  family,  who  were  all,  with  a  single  exception,  more  or  less 

,  recovered. 


T 


70  LETTERS. 

leased,  and  went  with  two  other  men  out  in  a  small 
boat,  under  their  eye,  to  fish.  They  played  about 
near  the  shore,  while  catching  small  fish,  till  they 
thought  they  could  possibly  reach  Dorchester  Neck  ; 
no  sooner  were  they  perceived  attempting  to  escape, 
than  they  had  twenty  cannons  discharged  at  them, 
but  they  all  happily  reached  the  shore.  He  says, 
no  language  can  paint  the  distress  of  the  inhabit 
ants  ;  most  of  them  destitute  of  wood  and  of  provis 
ions  of  every  kind.  The  bakers  say,  unless  they 
have  a  new  supply  of  wood,  they  cannot  bake  above 
one  fortnight  longer  ;  their  biscuit  are  not  above  one 
half  the  former  size  ;  the  soldiers  are  obliged  to  do 
very  hard  duty,  and  are  uneasy  to  a  great  degree, 
many  of  them  declaring  they  will  not  continue  much 
longer  in  such  a  state,  but  at  all  hazards  will  escape. 
The  inhabitants  are  desperate,  and  contriving  means 
of  escape.  A  floating  battery  of  ours,  went  out  two 
nights  ago,  and  rowed  near  the  town,  and  then  dis 
charged  their  guns.  Some  of  the  balls  went  into  the 
workhouse,  some  through  the  tents  in  the  Common, 
and  one  through  the  sign  of  the  Lamb  Tavern.  He 
says,  it  drove  them  all  out  of  the  Common,  men, 
women,  and  children  screaming,  and  threw  them 
into  the  utmost  distress  ;  but,  very  unhappily  for  us, 
in  the  discharge  of  one  of  the  cannon,  the  ball  not 
being  properly  rammed  down,  it  split  and  killed  two 
men,  and  wounded  seven  more,  upon  which  they 
were  obliged  to  return.  He  also  says,  that  the  Tories 
are  much  distressed  about  the  fate  of  Dr.  Church, 
and  very  anxious  to  obtain  him,  and  would  exchange 


LETTERS.  71 

Lovell  for  him.  This  man  is  so  exasperated  at  the 
ill  usage  he  has  received  from  them,  that  he  is  deter 
mined  to  enlist  immediately.  They  almost  starved 
him  whilst  he  was  in  irons.  He  says,  he  hopes  it 
will  be  in  his  power  to  send  some  of  them  to  heaven 
for  mercy.  They  are  building  a  fort  by  the  hay- 
market,  and  rending  down  houses  for  timber  to  do  it 
with.  In  the  course  of  the  last  week,  several  per 
sons  have  found  means  to  escape.  One  of  them 
says  it  is  talked  in  town,  that  Howe  will  issue  a  proc 
lamation,  giving  liberty  to  all,  who  will  not  take  up 
arms,  to  depart  the  town,  and  making  it  death  to 
have  any  intercourse  with  the  country  afterwards. 

At  present  it  looks  as  if  there  was  no  likelihood 
of  peace  ;  the  ministry  are  determined  to  proceed  at 
all  events ;  the  people  are  already  slaves,  and  have 
neither  virtue  nor  spirit  to  help  themselves  nor  us. 
The  time  is  hastening,  when  George,  like  Richard, 
may  cry,  "  My  kingdom  for  a  horse  ! "  and  want 
even  that  wealth  to  make  the  purchase.  I  hope  by 
degrees,  we  shall  be  inured  to  hardships,  and  be 
come  a  virtuous,  valiant  people,  forgetting  our  form 
er  luxury,  and  each  one  apply  with  industry  and 
frugality  to  manufactures  and  husbandry,  till  we  ri 
val  all  other  nations  by  our  virtues. 

I  thank  you  for  your  amusing  account  of  the  Qua 
ker  ;  their  great  stress  with  regard  to  color  in  their 
dress,  &c.,  is  not  the  only  ridiculous  part  of  their 
sentiments  with  regard  to  religious  matters. 

"  There's  not  a  day,  but  to  the  man  of  thought 
Betrays  some  secret,  that  throws  new  reproach 
On  life,  and  makes  him  sick  of  seeing  more." 


72  LETTERS. 

What  are  your  thoughts  with  regard  to  Dr.  Church  ? 
Had  you  much  knowledge  of  him  ?  I  think  you  had 
no  intimate  acquaintance  with  him. 

"  A  foe  to  God  was  ne'er  true  friend  to  man  ; 
Some  sinister  intent  taints  all  he  does." 

It  is  matter  of  great  speculation  what  will  be  his 
punishment ;  the  people  are  much  enraged  against 
him  ;  if  he  is  set  at  liberty,  even  after  he  has  receiv 
ed  a  severe  punishment,  I  do  not  think  he  will  be 
safe.  He  will  be  despised  and  detested  by  every 
one,  and  many  suspicions  will  remain  in  the  minds 
of  people  in  regard  to  our  rulers  ;  they  are  for  sup 
posing  this  person  is  not  sincere,  and  that  one  they 
have  jealousy  of. 

Have  you  any  prospect  of  returning  ?  I  hoped  to 
have  heard  from  you  by  the  gentlemen  who  came 
as  a  committee  here  ;  but  they  have  been  here  a 
week,  and  I  have  not  any  letters. 

My  father  and  sister  Betsey  desire  to  be  remem 
bered  to  you.  He  is  very  disconsolate.  It  makes 
my  heart  ache  to  see  him,  and  I  know  not  how  to  go 
to  the  house.  He  said  to  me  the  other  day,  "  Child, 
I  see  your  mother,  go  to  what  part  of  the  house  I 
will."  I  think  he  has  lost  almost  as  much  flesh  as 
if  he  had  been  sick  ;  and  Betsey,  poor  girl,  looks 
broken  and  worn  with  grief.  These  near  connex 
ions,  how  they  twist  and  cling  about  the  heart,  and 
when  torn  off,  draw  the  best  blood  from  it. 

"  Each  friend  by  fate  snatched  from  us,  is  a  plume 
Plucked  from  the  wing  of  human  vanity." 


LETTERS.  73 

Be  so  good  as  to  present  my  regards  to  Mrs.  Han 
cock.  I  hope  she  is  very  happy.  Mrs.  Warren 
called  upon  me  on  her  way  to  Watertown.  I  wish  I 
could  as  easily  come  to  you  as  she  can  go  to  Water- 
town.  But  it  is  my  lot.  In  the  twelve  years  we  have 
been  married,  1  believe  we  have  not  lived  together 
more  than  six. 

If  you  could,  with  any  conveniency,  procure  me 
the  articles  I  wrote  for,  I  should  be  very  glad,  more 
especially  the  needles  and  cloth ;  they  are  in  such 
demand,  that  we  are  really  distressed  for  want  of 
them. 

Adieu.  I  think  of  nothing  further  to  add,  but  that 
I  am,  with  the  tenderest  regard,  your 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  22  October,  1775. 

MR.  LOTHROP  called  here  this  evening,  and  brought 
me  yours  of  the  1st  of  October  ;  a  day  which  will 
ever  be  remembered  by  me,  for  it  was  the  most  dis 
tressing  one  I  ever  experienced.  That  morning  I  rose, 
and  went  into  my  mother's  room,  not  apprehending 
her  so  near  her  exit ;  went  to  her  bed  with  a  cup  of 
tea  in  my  hand,  and  raised  her  head  to  give  it  to  her. 
She  swallowed  a  few  drops,  gasped,  and  fell  back 
upon  her  pillow,  opening  her  eyes  with  a  look  that 
pierced  my  heart,  and  which  I  shall  never  forget ;  it 
was  the  eagerness  of  a  last  look ; 

"  And  O,  the  last  sad  silence  of  a  friend." 


74  LETTERS. 

Yet  she  lived  till  five  o'clock  that  day,  but  I  could 
not  be  with  her.  My  dear  father  prayed  twice  be 
side  her  bed  that  day.  God  Almighty  was  with  him 
and  supported  him  that  day,  and  enabled  him  to  go 
through  the  services  of  it.  It  was  his  communion 
day  ;  he  had  there  a  tender  scene  to  pass  through,  a 
young  granddaughter,  Betsey  Cranch,  joining  herself 
to  the  church,  and  a  beloved  wife  dying,  to  pray  for. 
Weeping  children,  weeping  and  mourning  parishion 
ers  all  round  him,  for  every  eye  streamed,  his  own 
heart  almost  bursting  as  he  spoke.  How  painful  is 
the  recollection,  and  yet  how  pleasing  ! 

I  know  I  wound  your  heart.  Why  should  I  ? 
Ought  I  to  give  relief  to  my  own  by  paining  yours  ? 

"  Yet  the  grief,  that  cannot  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'erfraught  heart,  and  bids  it  burst." 

My  pen  is  always  freer  than  my  tongue.  I  have 
written  many  things  to  you  that  I  suppose  I  never 
could  have  talked.  My  heart  is  made  tender  by 
repeated  affliction  ;  it  never  was  a  hard  heart.  The 
death  of  Patty  came  very  near  me,  having  lived 
four  years  with  me  under  my  care.  I  hope  it  will 
make  me  more  continually  mindful  and  watchful  of 
all  those  who  are  still  committed  to  my  charge. 
'T  is  a  great  trust ;  I  daily  feel  more  and  more  of  the 
weight  and  importance  of  it,  and  of  my  own  inability. 
I  wish  I  could  have  more  of  the  assistance  of  my 
dearest  friend,  but  these  perilous  times  swallow  him 
up. 

Mr.  Lothrop  has  given  me  this  account  of  the  de- 


LETTERS.  75 

mand  upon  Falmouth.  A  man-of-war  and  two  tend 
ers  went  down,  and  sent  to  the  inhabitants  to  demand 
their  arms,  and  require  them  to  stand  neuter.  They 
required  time  to  consider  ;  they  had  until  nine  o'clock 
the  next  day,  which  time  they  employed  in  remov 
ing  the  women,  children,  and  the  rest  of  their  most 
valuable  effects,  out  of  danger,  when  they  sent  their 
answer  in  the  negative.  Upon  this,  the  enemy  be 
gan  a  cannonade,  and  were  continuing  it  when  the 
express  came  away.  Hitchbourne  and  another  gen 
tleman  got  out  of  town  in  a  small  boat,  one  of  the 
foggy  nights  we  have  had  this  week.  I  have  not 
heard  what  intelligence  he  brings.  Another  person 
says,  that  Howe  enlarged  all  the  prisoners  but  Lovellr 
and  he  would  not  come  out. 

I  have  since  seen  the  Paraphrase,1  as  it  is  called ; 
but  't  is  as  low  as  the  mock  oration,1  though  no  re 
flection  upon  your  private  character,  further  than 
immoderately  whipping  your  scholars  when  you  kept 
school ;  a  crime  any  one  will  acquit  you  of  who 
knows  you.  As  a  specimen  of  the  wit  and  humor  it 
contained,  I  will  give  you  the  title.  "A  Paraphrase 
upon  the  Second  Epistle  of  John  the  Roundhead,  to 
James,  the  Prolocutor  of  the  Rump  Parliament.  Dear 
Devil,"  &c.  J  had  it,  but  it  was  when  I  was  in  so 
much  distress  that  I  cared  nothing  about  it.  I  will 


1  Scurrilous  publications,  made  by  the  Tories  and  British 
officers  in  Boston,  during  the  siege.  The  first  of  these  was  a 
paraphrase  of  an  intercepted  letter  of  Mr.  Adams,  to  General 
James  Warren,  then  President  of  the  Provincial  Congress. 


76  LETTERS. 

mention,  when  I  see  you,  the  foolish  conjectures  of 
some,  who  want  always  to  be  finding  out  something 
extraordinary  in  whatever  happens. 

I  hope  to  hear  often  from  you,  which  is  all  the 
alleviation  I  have  in  your  absence,  and  is,  next  to 
seeing  you,  the  greatest  comfort  of  your 

PORTIA. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

5  November,  1775. 

I  HOPE  you  have  received  several  letters  from  me  in 
this  fortnight  past.  I  wrote  by  Mr.  Lynch  and  by 
Dr.  Franklin,  the  latter  of  whom  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  dining  with,  and  of  admiring  him,  whose  charac 
ter  from  my  infancy  I  had  been  taught  to  venerate. 
I  found  him  social  but  not  talkative,  and,  when  he 
spoke,  something  useful  dropped  from  his  tongue. 
He  was  grave,  yet  pleasant  and  affable.  You  know 
I  make  some  pretensions  to  physiognomy,  and  I 
thought  I  could  read  in  his  countenance  the  virtues 
of  his  heart,  among  which,  patriotism  shone  in  its 
full  lustre  ;  and  with  that  is  blended  every  virtue  of 
a  Christian.  For  a  true  patriot  must  be  a  religious 
man.  I  have  been  led  to  think  from  a  late  defection,1 
that  he  who  neglects  his  duty  to  his  Maker,  may 
well  be  expected  to  be  deficient  and  insincere  in  his 
duty  towards  the  public.  Even  suppose  him  to  pos 
sess  a  large  share  of  what  is  called  honor  and  pub- 
1  Of  Dr.  Church. 


LETTERS.  77 

lie  spirit,  yet,  do  not  these  men,  by  their  bad  exam 
ple,  by  a  loose,  immoral  conduct,  corrupt  the  minds 
of  youth,  and  vitiate  the  morals  of  the  age,  and  thus 
injure  the  public  more  than  they  can  compensate  by 
intrepidity,  generosity,  and  honor  ?  Let  revenge  or 
ambition,  pride,  lust,  or  profit,  tempt  these  men  to  a 
base  and  vile  action  ;  you  may  as  well  hope  to  bind 
up  a  hungry  tiger  with  a  cobweb,  as  to  hold  such 
debauched  patriots  in  the  visionary  chains  of  decen 
cy,  or  to  charm  them  with  the  intellectual  beauty  of 
truth  and  reason. 

But  where  am  I  running  ?  I  mean  to  thank  you 
for  all  your  obliging  favors  lately  received  ;  and 
though  some  of  them  are  very  laconic,  yet,  were 
they  to  contain  only  two  lines  to  tell  me  that  you 
were  well,  they  would  be  acceptable  to  me.  I  think 
however,  you  are  more  apprehensive  than  you  need 
be  ;  the  gentleman,  to  whose  care  they  have  always 
been  directed,  has  been  very  kind  in  his  conveyance, 
and  very  careful.  I  hope,  however,  that  it  will  not 
now  be  long  before  we  shall  have  nearer  interviews. 
You  must  tell  me,  that  you  will  return  next  month  ; 
a  late  appointment !  will  make  it  inconvenient  (pro 
vided  you  accept)  for  you  to  go  again  to  Congress. 

/It  seems  human  nature  is  the  same  in  all  ages  and 
countries.  Ambition  and  avarice  reign  everywhere, 
and,  where  they  predominate,  there  will  be  bicker 
ings  after  places  of  honor  and  profit.  There  is  an 
old  adage,  "  Kissing  goes  by  favor,"  that  is  daily  veri- 

1  That  of  Chief  Justice,  alluded  to  in  a  preceding  letter. 


78  LETTERS. 

fied.  I  inclose  to  you  the  paper  you  sent  for.  Your 
busiriess  in  collecting  facts  will  be  very  difficult,  and 
the  sufferings  of  this  people  cannot  be  described 
with  pen,  ink,  and  paper.  Besides,  these  ministers  of 
Satan  are  rendering  it  every  day  more  and  more 
difficult,  by  their  ravages  and  devastation,  to  tell  a 
tale  which  will  freeze  the  young  blood  of  succeed 
ing  generations,  as  well  as  harrow  up  the  souls  of 
the  present. 

Nothing  new  has  transpired  since  I  wrote  you 
last.  I  have  not  heard  of  one  person's  escape  out 
of  town,  nor  of  any  manoeuvre  of  any  kind. 

I  will  only  ask  you  to  measure  by  your  own  the 
affectionate  regard  of  your  nearest  friend.1 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  12  November,  ]775. 

THE  intelligence2  you  will  receive  before  this  reaches 
you,  will,  I  should  think,  make  a  plain  path,  though 
a  dangerous  one,  for  you.  I  could  not  join  to-day,  in 
the  petitions  of  our  worthy  pastor,  for  a  reconcilia 
tion  between  our  no  longer  parent  state,  but  tyrant 

1  This  letter  is  without  signature,  as  was  generally  the  case 
during  the  war,  when  a  fictitious  one  was  not  attached. 

2  This  probably  alludes  to  the  act  passed   by  the  Provincial 
Congress  on  the  10th  of  the  month,  to  authorize  privateering. 
"  The  first  avowal  of  offensive  hostility  against  the  mother 
country  to  be  found  in  the  annals  of  the    revolution."     Aus 
tin's  Life  of  E.  Gerry,  Vol.  I.  p.  94,  and  Appendix  A. 


LETTERS.  79 

state,  and  these  colonies.  Let  us  separate  ;  they  are 
unworthy  to  be  our  brethren.  Let  us  renounce 
them  ;  and,  instead  of  supplications  as  formerly,  for 
their  prosperity  and  happiness,  let  us  beseech  the 
Almighty  to  blast  their  counsels,  and  bring  to  nought 
all  their  devices. 

I  have  nothing  remarkable  to  write  you.  A  little 
skirmish  happened  last  week ;  the  particulars  I  have 
endeavoured  to  collect,  but  whether  I  have  the  facts 
right,  I  am  not  certain.  A  number  of  cattle  were 
kept  at  Lechmere's  point,  where  two  sentinels  were 
placed.  In  a  high  tide,  it  is  an  island  ;  the  regulars 
had  observed  this,  and  a  scheme  was  laid  to  send  a 
number  of  them  over  and  take  off  the  stock.  Ac 
cordingly  a  number  of  boats  and  about  four  hundred 
men  were  sent.  They  landed,  it  seems,  unperceived 
by  the  sentinels,  who  were  asleep  ;  one  of  whom 
they  killed,  and  took  the  other  prisoner.  As  soon 
as  they  were  perceived,  they  fired  the  cannon  from 
Prospect  Hill  upon  them,  which  sunk  one  of  their 
boats  ;  but,  as  the  tide  was  very  high,  it  was  difficult 
getting  over,  and  some  time  before  any  alarm  was 
given.  A  Colonel  Thompson,  of  the  riflemen,  march 
ed  instantly  with  his  men  ;  and,  though  a  very  stormy 
day,  they  regarded  not  the  tide  nor  waited  for  boats, 
but  marched  over  neck  high  in  water,  and  discharged 
their  pieces,  when  the  regulars  ran,  without  wait 
ing  to  get  off  their  stock,  and  made  the  best  of  their 
way  to  the  opposite  shore.1  The  General  sent  his 

1  This  affair  also  is  mentioned  in  "The  Remembrancer" 
for  1776,  Vol.  I.  p.  22D. 


80  LETTERS. 

thanks  in  a  public  manner  to  ihe  brave  officer  and 
his  men.  Major  Mifflin,  I  hear,  was  there,  and  flew 
about  as  though  he  would  have  raised  the  whole 
army.  May  they  never  find  us  deficient  in  courage 
and  spirit. 

Dr.  Franklin  invited  me  to  spend  the  winter  in 
Philadelphia.  I  shall  wish  to  be  there  unless  you 
return.  I  have  been  like  a  nun  in  a  cloister,  ever 
since  you  went  away,  and  have  not  been  into  any 
other  house  than  my  father's  and  sister's,  except 
once  to  Colonel  Quincy's.  Indeed,  I  have  had  no 
inclination  for  company.  My  evenings  are  lone 
some  and  melancholy.  In  the  daytime  family  af 
fairs  take  off  my  attention,  but  the  evenings  are 
spent  with  my  departed  parent.  I  then  ruminate 
upon  all  her  care  and  tenderness,  and  am  sometimes 
lost  and  absorbed  in  a  flood  of  tenderness,  ere  I  am 
aware  of  it,  or  can  call  to  my  aid  my  only  prop  and 
support.  I  must  bid  you  adieu  ;  't  is  late  at  night. 
Most  affectionately  yours. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS* 

27  November,  1775. 

COLONEL  WARREN  returned  last  week  to  Plymouth, 
so  that  I  shall  not  hear  any  thing  from  you,  until  he 
goes  back  again,  which  will  not  be  till  the  last  of 
this  month.  He  damped  my  spirits  greatly  by  tell- 


LETTERS.  81 

ing  me,  that  the  Court1  had  prolonged  your  stay 
another  month.  I  was  pleasing  myself  with  the 
thought,  that  you  would  soon  be  upon  your  return. 
It  is  in  vain  to  repine.  I  hope  the  public  will  reap 
what  I  sacrifice. 

I  wish  I  knew  what  mighty  things  were  fabricat 
ing.  If  a  form  of  government  is  to  be  established 
here,  what  one  will  be  assumed  ?  Will  it  be  left  to 
our  Assemblies  to  choose  one  ?  And  will  not  many 
men  have  many  minds  ?  And  shall  we  not  run  into 
dissensions  among  ourselves  ? 

I  am  more  and  more  convinced,  that  man  is  a 
dangerous  creature  ;  and  that  power,  whether  vested 
in  many  or  a  few,  is  ever  grasping,  and,  like  the 
grave,  cries  "  Give,  give."  The  great  fish  swallow 
up  the  small  ;  and  he,  who  is  most  strenuous  for  the 
rights  of  the  people,  when  vested  with  power  is  as 
eager  after  the  prerogatives  of  government.  You 
tell  me  of  degrees  of  perfection  to  which  human 
nature  is  capable  of  arriving,  and  I  believe  it,  but, 
at  the  same  time,  lament  that  our  admiration  should 
arise  from  the  scarcity  of  the  instances. 

The  building  up  a  great  empire,  which  was  only 
hinted  at  by  my  correspondent,  may  now,  I  suppose, 
be  realized  even  by  the  unbelievers.  Yet,  will  not 
ten  thousand  difficulties  arise  in  the  formation  of  it  ? 
The  reins  of  government  have  been  so  long  slack 
ened,  that  I  fear  the  people  will  not  quietly  submit 
to  those  restraints,  which  are  necessary  for  the  peace 

1  The  General  Court  of  the  Province. 
VOL.  I.  C 


82  LETTERS. 

and  security  of  the  community.  If  we  separate 
from  Britain,  what  code  of  laws  will  be  established  ?  - 
How  shall  we  be  governed,  so  as  to  retain  our  lib 
erties  ?  Can  any  government  be  free,  which  is  not 
administered  by  general  stated  laws  ?  Who  shall 
frame  these  laws  ?  Who  will  give  them  force  and 
energy  ?  It  is  true,  your  resolutions,  as  a  body, 
have  hitherto  had  the  force  of  laws ;  but  will  they 
continue  to  have  ? 

When  I  consider  these  things,  and  the  prejudices 
of  people  in  favor  of  ancient  customs  and  regula 
tions,  I  feel  anxious  for  the  fate  of  our  monarchy  or 
democracy,  or  whatever  is  to  take  place.  I  soon  get 
lost  in  a  labyrinth  of  perplexities ;  but,  whatever 
occurs,  may  justice  and  righteousness  be  the  stability 
of  our  times,  and  order  arise  out  of  confusion.  Great 
difficulties  may  be  surmounted  by  patience  and  per 
severance. 

I  believe,  I  have  tired  you  with  politics  ;  as  to 
news  we  have  not  any  at  all.  I  shudder  at  the 
approach  of  winter,  when  I  think  I  am  to  remain 
desolate. 

I  must  bid  you  good  night ;  't  is  late  for  me,  who 
am  much  of  an  invalid.  I  was  disappointed  last 
week  in  receiving  a  packet  by  the  post,  and,  upon 
unsealing  it,  finding  only  four  newspapers.  I  think 
you  are  more  cautious  than  you  need  be.  All  let 
ters,  I  believe,  have  come  safe  to  hand.  I  have 
sixteen  from  you,  and  wish  I  had  as  many  more. 
Adieu,  yours. 


LETTERS.  83 

t, 

TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  10  December,  1775. 

I  RECEIVED  your  obliging  favor  by  Mrs.  Morgan,  with 
the  papers  and  the  other  articles  you  sent,  which 
were  very  acceptable  to  me,  as  they  are  not  to  be 
purchased  here.  I  shall  be  very  choice  of  them. 

I  have,  according  to  your  desire,  been  upon  a  visit 
to  Mrs.  Morgan,  who  keeps  at  Major  Mifflin's.  I 
had  received  a  message  from  Mrs.  Mifflin  some  time 
ago,  desiring  I  would  visit  her.  My  father,  who, 
you  know,  is  very  obliging  in  this  way,  accompanied 
me,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  drinking  coffee  with 
the  Doctor  and  his  lady,  the  Major  and  his  lady,  and 
a. Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith  from  New  York,  a  daughter 
of  the  famous  son  of  liberty,  Captain  Sears  ;  Generals 
Gates  and  Lee  ;  a  Dr.  M'Henry  and  a  Mr.  Ehvyn, 
with  many  others  who  were  strangers  to  me.  I 
was  very  politely  entertained,  and  noticed  by  the 
generals  ;  more  especially  General  Lee,  who  was 
very  urgent  with  me  to  tarry  in  town,  and  dine  with 
him  and  the  ladies  present,  at  Hobgoblin  Hall,  but  I 
excused  myself.  The  General  was  determined,  that 
I  should  not  only  be  acquainted  with  him,  but  with 
his  companions  too,  and  therefore  placed  a  chair 
before  me,  into  which  he  ordered  Mr.  Spada  to 
mount  and  present  his  paw  to  me  for  a  better  ac 
quaintance.  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  accept 


84  LETTERS. 

it.  "That,  Madam,"  says  he,  "is  the  dog  which 
Mr.  has  rendered  famous." 

I  was  so  little  while  in  company  with  these  per 
sons,  and  the  company  so  mixed,  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  form  any  judgment  of  them.  The 
Doctor  appeared  modest,  and  his  lady  affable  and 
agreeable.  Major  Mifflin,  you  know,  I  was  always 
an  admirer  of,  as  well  as  of  his  delicate  lady.  I 
believe  Philadelphia  must  be  an  unfertile  soil,  or  it 
would  not  produce  so  many  unfruitful  women.  I  al 
ways  conceive  of  these  persons  as  wanting  one  ad 
dition  to  their  happiness ;  but,  in  these  perilous 
times,  I  know  not,  whether  it  ought  to  be  consider 
ed  as  an  infelicity,  since  they  are  certainly  freed 
from  the  anxiety  every  parent  must  feel  for  their 
rising  offspring. 

I  drank  coffee  one  day  with  General  Sullivan  upon 
Winter  Hill.  He  appears  to  be  a  man  of  sense  and 
spirit.  His  countenance  denotes  him  of  a  warm  con 
stitution,  not  to  be  very  suddenly  moved,  but,  when 
once  roused,  not  very  easily  lulled,  —  easy  and  so 
cial, —  well  calculated  for  a  military  station,  as  he 
seems  to  be  possessed  of  those  popular  qualities, 
necessary  to  attach  men  to  him. 

By  the  way,  I  congratulate  you  upon  our  late 
noble  acquisition  of  military  stores.1  It  is  a  most 
grand  mortar,  I  assure  you.  Surely  Heaven  smiles 
upon  us  in  many  respects,  and  we  have  continually 


1  By  the  capture  of  the  brig  Nancy,  bound  for  Boston,  with 
ordnance  from  "Woolwich. 


LETTERS.  85 

to  speak  of  mercies,  as  well  as  of  judgments.  I 
wish  our  gratitude  may  be  anywise  proportionate  to 
our  benefits.  I  suppose,  in  Congress,  you  think  of 
every  thing  relative  to  trade  and  commerce,  as  well 
as  other  things  ;  but,  as  I  have  been  desired  to  men 
tion  to  you  some  things,  I  shall  not  omit  them. 
One  is,  that  there  may  be  something  done,  in  a  Con 
tinental  way,  with  regard  to  excise  upon  spirituous 
liquors,  that  each  of  the  New  England  colonies  may 
be  upon  the  same  footing  ;  whereas  we  formerly 
used  to  pay  an  excise,  and  the  other  colonies  none, 
or  very  little,  by  which  means  they  drew  away  our 
trade.  That  an  excise  is  necessary,  though  it  may 
be  objected  to  by  the  mercantile  interest,  as  a  too 
frequent  use  of  spirits  endangers  the  wellbeing  of 
society.  Another  article  is,  that  some  method  may 
be  devised  to  keep  among  us  our  gold  and  silver, 
which  are  now  every  day  shipped  off  to  the  West  In 
dies  for  molasses,  coffee,  and  sugar ;  and  this  I  can 
say  of  my  own  knowledge,  that  a  dollar  in  silver  is 
now  become  a  great  rarity,  and  our  traders  will  give 
you  a  hundred  pounds  of  paper  for  ninety  of  silver, 
or  nearly  that  proportion.  If  any  trade  is  allowed 
to  the  West  Indies,  would  it  not  be  better  to  carry 
some  commodity  of  our  own  produce  in  exchange  ? 
Medicines,  cotton  wool,  and  some  other  articles,  we 
are  in  great  want  of.  Formerly  we  used  to  purchase 
cotton  wool  at  one  shilling,  lawful  money,  per  bag  ; 
now  it  is  three,  and  the  scarcity  of  that  article  dis 
tresses  us,  as  it  was  wrought  up  with  less  trouble 
than  any  other  article  of  clothing.  Flax  is  now  from 


00  LETTERS. 

a  shilling  to  one  and  sixpence  per  pound,  sheep's 
wool  eighteen  pence,  and  linens  not  to  be  had  at  any 
price.  I  cannot  mention  the  article  in  the  English 
goods  way,  which  is  not  double  ;  and,  in  the  West 
India,  molasses  by  retail  I  used  formerly  to  purchase 
at  one  and  eight  pence,  —  now  it  is  two  and  eight 
pence  ;  rum,  three  shillings  ;  coffee,  one  and  three 
pence,  and  all  other  things  in  proportion.  Corn  is 
four  shillings  per  bushel  ;  rye,  five  ;  oats,  three  and 
eight  pence  ;  hay,  five  and  six  shillings  per  hundred  ; 
wood,  twenty  shillings  per  cord ;  but  meat  of  all 
kinds  cheap. 

My  uncle  Quincy  desires  to  be  remembered  to 
you  ;  he  inquired  when  you  talked  of  coming  home. 

1  told  him  you  had   not  fixed  any  time.     He  says,  if 
you  don't  come  soon,  he  would  advise  me  to  procure 
another  husband.     He,1  of  all   persons,  ought  not  to 
give   me  such  advice,  I  told   him,   unless  he   set  a 
better  example  himself. 

Be  kind  enough  to  burn  this  letter.  It  is  written 
in  great  haste,  and  a  most  incorrect  scrawl  it  is. 
But  I  cannot  conclude  without  telling  you,  we  are  all 
very  angry  with  your  House  of  Assembly  for  their 
instructions."  They  raise  prejudices  in  the  minds  of 

1  Norton  Quincy,  the  only  son  of  Colonel  John  Quincy, 
and  the  uncle  of  Mrs.  Adams,  was  married  early.     His  wife 
died  within  the  first  year  of  the  marriage,  and  the  depth  of  his 
feelings  at  this  bereavement  was  such  as  to  make  him  a  recluse 
for  life.     Hence  the  point  of  her  remark. 

2  It  is  a  little   doubtful   to   what  this  alludes.     Probably  to 
the  application  made  by   New  Hampshire  to   Congress,  for 


LETTERS.  87 

people,  and  serve  to  create  in  their  minds  a  terror  at 
a  separation  from  a  people  wholly  unworthy  of  us. 
We  are  a  little  of  the  spaniel  kind  ;  though  so  often 
spurned,  still  to  fawn,  argues  a  meanness  of  spirit, 
that,  as  an  individual,  I  disclaim,  and  would  rather 
endure  any  hardship  than  submit  to  it. 

Yours. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Saturday  Evening-,  2  March,  1776. 

I  WAS  greatly  rejoiced,  at  the  return  of  your  servant, 
to  find  you  had  safely  arrived,  and  that  you  were 
well  I  had  never  heard  a  word  from  you  after  you 
had  left  New  York,  and  a  most  ridiculous  story 
had  been  industriously  propagated  in  this  and  the 
neighbouring  towns  to  injure  the  cause  and  blast  your 
reputation;  namely,  that  you  and  your  President1 
had  gone  on  board  of  a  man-of-war  from  New  York, 
and  sailed  for  England.  I  should  not  mention  so 
idle  a  report,  but  that  it  had  given  uneasiness  to 
some  of  your  friends  ;  not  that  they,  in  the  least, 
credited  the  report,  but  because  the  gaping  vulgar 
swallowed  the  story.  One  man2  had  deserted  them 

advice  to  establish  a  form  of  government  for  itself.  This  ad- 
vice  was  given,  although  not  without  reluctance.  A  number 
of  the  members  opposed  it,  as  being  too  decisive  a  step  to 
wards  independence. —  See  Gordon's  "  History,"  Vol.  II.  p. 
150. 

1  John  Hancock.  *  Dr.  Church. 


88  LETTERS. 

and  proved  a  traitor,  another  might,  &c.  I  assure 
you,  such  high  disputes  took  place  in  the  public 
house  of  this  parish,  that  some  men  were  collared 
and  dragged  out  of  the  shop  with  great  threats,  for 
reporting  such  scandalous  lies,  and  an  uncle  of  ours 
offered  his  life  as  a  forfeit  for  you,  if  the  report 
proved  true.  However,  it  has  been  a  nine  days' 
marvel,  and  will  now  cease.  I  heartily  wish  every 
Tory  was  extirpated  from  America  ;  they  are  contin 
ually,  by  secret  means,  undermining  and  injuring  our 
cause. 

I  am  charmed  with  the  sentiments  of  "  Common 
Sense,"  and  wonder  how  an  honest  heart,  one  who 
wishes  the  welfare  of  his  country  and  the  happiness 
of  posterity,  can  hesitate  one  moment  at  adopting 
them.  I  want  to  know  how  these  sentiments  are  re 
ceived  in  Congress.  I  dare  say  there  would  be  no 
difficulty  in  procuring  a  vote  and  instructions  from  all 
the  Assemblies  in  New  England  for  Independency. 
I  most  sincerely  wish,  that  now,  in  the  lucky  moment, 
it  might  be  done. 

I  have  been  kept  in  a  continual  state  of  anxiety 
and  expectation,  ever  since  you  left  me.  It  has  been 
said  "  to-morrow  "  and  "  to-morrow  "  for  this  month, 
but  when  the  dreadful  to-morrow  will  be,  I  know  not. 
But  hark  !  The  house  this  instant  shakes  with  the 
roar  of  cannon.  I  have  been  to  the  door  and  find  it 
is  a  cannonade  from  our  army.  Orders,  I  find,  are 
come  for  all  the  remaining  militia  to  repair  to  the 
lines  Monday  night  by  twelve  o'clock.  No  sleep  for 
me  to-night.  And  if  I  cannot,  who  have  no  guilt 


LETTERS.'  89 

upon  my  soul  with  regard  to  this  cause,  how  shall 
the  miserable  wretches,  who  have  been  the  pro 
curers  of  this  dreadful  scene,  and  those  who  are  to 
be  the  actors,  lie  down  with  the  load  of  guilt  upon 
their  souls  ? 

Sunday  Evening,  3  March. 

I  went  to  bed  after  twelve,  but  got  no  rest ;  the 
cannon  continued  firing,  and  my  heart  beat  pace 
with  them  all  night.  We  have  had  a  pretty  quiet 
day,  but  what  to-morrow  will  bring  forth,  God  only 
knows. 

Monday  Evening. 

Tolerably  quiet.  To-day  the  militia  have  all 
mustered,  with  three  days'  provision,  and  are  all 
marched  by  three  o'clock  this  afternoon,  though 
their  notice  was  no  longer  ago  than  eight  o'clock, 
Saturday.  And  now  we  have  scarcely  a  man,  but 
our  regular  guards,  either  in  Wey mouth,  Hing- 
ham,  Braintree,  or  Milton,  and  the  militia  from  the 
more  remote  towns  are  called  in  as  seacoast  guards. 
Can  you  form  to  yourself  an  idea  of  our  sensa 
tions  ? 

I  have  just  returned  from  Perm's  Hill,  where  I 
have  been  sitting  to  hear  the  amazing  roar  of  can 
non,  and  from  whence  I  could  see  every  shell  which 
was  thrown.  The  sound,  I  think,  is  one  of  the 
grandest  in  nature,  and  is  of  the  true  species  of  the 
Sublime.  'T  is  now  an  incessant  roar ;  but  O  !  the 
fatal  ideas,  which  are  connected  with  the  sound  ! 
How  many  of  our  dear  countrymen  must  fall ! 


90  LETTERS. 


Tuesday  Morning. 

I  went  to  bed  about  twelve,  and  rose  again  a  little 
after  one.  I  could  no  more  sleep,  than  if  I  had  been 
in  the  engagement ;  the  rattling  of  the  windows,  the 
jar  of  the  house,  the  continual  roar  of  twenty-four 
pounders,  and  the  bursting  of  shells,  give  us  such 
ideas,  and  realize  a  scene  to  us  of  which  we  could 
form  scarcely  any  conception.  About  six,  this  morn 
ing,  there  was  quiet.  I  rejoiced  in  a  few  hours' 
calm.  I  hear  we  got  possession  of  Dorchester  hill 
last  night ;  four  thousand  men  upon  it  to-day  ;  lost 
but  one  man.  The  ships  are  all  drawn  rourid  the 
town.  To-night  we  shall  realize  a  more  terrible 
scene  still.  I  sometimes  think  I  cannot  stand  it.  I 
wish  myself  with  you,  out  of  hearing,  as  I  cannot 
assist  them.  I  hope  to  give  you  joy  of  Boston,  even 
if  it  is  in  ruins,  before  I  send  this  away.  I  am  too 
much  agitated  to  write  as  I  ought,  and  languid  for 
want  of  rest. 

Thursday.     Fast-day. 

All  my  anxiety  and  distress  is  at  present  at  an 
end.  I  feel  disappointed.  This  day  our  militia  are 
all  returning  without  effecting  any  thing  more  than 
taking  possession  of  Dorchester  hill.  I  hope  it  is 
wise  and  just,  but,  from  all  the  muster  and  stir,  I 
hoped  and  expected  more  important  and  decisive 
scenes.  I  would  not  have  suffered  all  I  have  for 
two  such  hills.  Ever  since  the  taking  of  that,  we 
have  had  a  perfect  calm  :  nor  can  I  learn  yet,  what 


LETTERS.  91 

effect  it  has  had   in  Boston.     I  do  not  hear  of  one 
person's  escaping  since. 

I  was  very  much  pleased  with  your  choice  of  a 
committee  for  Canada.  All  those  to  whom  I  have 
ventured  to  show  that  part  of  your  letter,  approve  the 
scheme  of  the  priest,  as  a  master-stroke  of  policy.1 
I  feel  sorry,  that  General  Lee  has  left  us,  but  his 
presence  at  New  York  was  no  doubt  of  great  impor 
tance,  as  we  have  reason  to  think  it  prevented  Clinton 
from  landing  and  gathering  together  such  a  nest  of 
vermin,  as  would  at  least  have  distressed  us  greatly. 
But  how  can  you  spare  him  from  here  ?  Can  you 
make  his  place  good  ?  Can  you  supply  it  with  a  man 
equally  qualified  to  save  us  ?  How  do  the  Virginians 
relish  the  troops  said  to  be  destined  for  them  ?  Are 
they  putting  themselves  into  a  state  of  defence  ?  I 
cannot  bear  to  think  of  your  continuing  in  a  state  of 
supine  ness  this  winter. 

"  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune; 
Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 
Is  bound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries. 
On  such  a  full  sea  are  we  now  afloat ; 
And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves, 
Or  lose  our  ventures." 

1  The  members  chosen  on  the  committee  were  Dr.  Franklin, 
Mr.  Samuel  Chase,  and  Mr.  Charles  Carroll,  of  Carrollton. 
At  the  same  time  it  was  "  Resolved,  That  Mr.  Carroll  be  re 
quested  to  prevail  on  Mr.  John  Carroll  to  accompany  the 
committee  to  Canada,  to  assist  them  in  such  matters  as  they 
shall  think  useful." — Journal  of  Congress,  February  15th, 
1776. 


92  LETTERS. 

Sunday  Evening. 

I  had  scarcely  finished  these  lines  when  my  ears 
were  again  assaulted  by  the  roar  of  cannon.  I  could 
not  write  any  further.  My  hand  and  heart  will 
tremble  at  this  "  domestic  fury  and  fierce  civil  strife," 
which  "  cumber  all  "  our  "  parts  "  ;  though  "  blood 
and  destruction  "  are  "  so  much  in  use,"  "  and  dread 
ful  objects  so  familiar,"  yet  is  not  "  pity  choked," 
nor  my  heart  grown  callous.  I  feel  for  the  unhappy 
wretches,  who  know  not  where  to  fly  for  safety.  I 
feel  still  more  for  my  bleeding  countrymen,  who  are 
hazarding  their  lives  and  their  limbs.  A  most  ter 
rible  and  incessant  cannonade  from  half  after  eight 
till  six  this  morning.  I  hear  we  lost  four  men  killed, 
and. some  wounded,  in  attempting  to  take  the  hill 
nearest  the  town,  called  Nook's  Hill.  We  did  some 
work,  but  the  fire  from  the  ships  beat  off  our  men, 
so  that  they  did  not  secure  it,  but  retired  to  the  fort 
upon  the  other  hill. 

I  have  not  got  all  the  particulars ;  I  wish  I  had  ; 
but,  as  I  have  an  opportunity  of  sending  this,  I  shall 
endeavour  to  be  more  particular  in  my  next. 

If  there  are  reinforcements  here,  I  believe  we  shall 
be  driven  from  the  seacoast ;  but,  in  whatever  state 
I  am,  I  will  endeavour  to  be  therewith  content. 

"  Man  wants  but  little  here  below, 
,      Nor  wants  that  little  long." 

You  will  excuse  this  very  incorrect  letter.  You 
see  in  what  perturbation  it  has  been  written,  and 
how  many  times  I  have  left  off.  Adieu.  Yours. 


LETTERS.  93 

TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  7  April,  1776. 

I  HAVE  received  all  the  papers  you  sent,  the  oration 
and  the  magazines.  In  the  small  papers  I  sometimes 
find  pieces  begun  and  continued,  (for  instance,  John 
ston's  speech,)  but  am  so  unlucky  as  not  to  get  the 
papers  in  order,  and  miss  of  seeing  the  whole. 

The  removal  of  the  army  seems  to  have  stopped 
the  current  of  news.  I  want  to  know  to  what  part 
of  America  they  are  now  wandering.  It  is  reported 
and  credited,  that  Manly  has  taken  a  schooner  be 
longing  to  the  fleet,  richly  laden  with  money,  plate, 
and  English  goods,  with  a  number  of  Tories.  The 
particulars  I  have  not  yet  learned.  Yesterday  the 
remains  of  our  worthy  General  Warren  were  dug 
up  upon  Bunker's  hill,  and  carried  into  town,  and  on 
Monday  are  to  be  interred,  with  all  the  honors  of 
war. 

10  April. 

The  Doctor  was  buried  on  Monday  ;  the  masons 
walking  in  procession  from  the  Statehouse,  with  the 
military  in  uniforms,  and  a  large  concourse  of  peo 
ple  attending.  He  was  carried  into  the  Chapel, 
and  there  a  funeral  dirge  was  played,  an  excellent 
prayer  by  Dr.  Cooper,  and  an  oration  by  Mr.  Morton, 
which  I  hope  will  be  printed.  I  think  the  subject 
must  have  inspired  him.  A  young  fellow  could 


94  LETTERS. 

not  have  wished  a  finer  opportunity  to  display  his 
talents.  The  amiable  and  heroic  virtues  of  the  de 
ceased,  recent  in  the  minds  of  the  audience  ;  the 
noble  cause  to  which  he  fell  a  martyr  ;  their  own 
sufferings  and  unparalleled  injuries,  all  fresh  in  their 
minds,  must  have  given  weight  and  energy  to  what 
ever  could  be  delivered  upon  the  occasion.  The 
dead  body,  like  that  of  Caesar,  before  their  eyes, 
whilst  each  wound, 

"  like  dumb  mouths,  did  ope  their  ruby  lips, 
To  beg  the  voice  and  utterance  of  a  tongue. 
Woe  to  the  hands  that  shed  this  costly  blood, 
A  curse  shall  light"  upon  their  line.1 

11  April. 

I  take  my  pen  and  write  just  as  I  can  get  time  ; 
my  letters  will  be  a  strange  mixture.  I  really  am 
"  cumbered  about  many  things,"  and  scarcely  know 
which  way  to  turn  myself.  I  miss  my  partner,  and 
find  myself  unequal  to  the  cares  which  fall  upon  me. 
I  find  it  necessary  to  be  the  directress  of  our  hus 
bandry.  I  hope  in  time  to  have  the  reputation  of 
being  as  good  a  farmeress,  as  my  partner  has  of 
being  a  good  statesman.  To  ask  you  any  thing  about 
your  return,  would,  I  suppose,  be  asking  a  question 
which  you  cannot  answer. 

1  The  quotations  from  Shakspeare's  "  Julius  Caesar,"  so  fre 
quently  to  be  met  with  in  this  and  the  preceding  letter,  betray 
as  strongly  the  historical  precedents  to  which  the  rnind  of  the 
writer  at  this  time  inclined,  as  the  signature  which  she  as 
sumed. 


LETTERS.  95 

Retirement,  rural  quiet,  domestic  pleasures,  all,  all, 
must  give  place  to  the  weighty  cares  of  state.  It 
would  bo 

"  meanly  poor  in  solitude  to  hide 
An  honest  zeal,  unwarped  by  party  rage." 

"  Though  certain  pains  attend  the  cares  of  state, 
A  good  man  owes  his  country  to  be  great, 
Should  act  abroad  the  high  distinguished  part, 
And  show,  at  least,  the  purpose  of  his  heart." 

I  hope  your  Prussian  general1  will  answer  the  high 
character  which  is  given  of  him.  But  we,  who  have 
been  bred  in  a  land  of  liberty,  scarcely  know  how  to 
give  credit  to  so  unjust  and  arbitrary  a  mandate  of  a 
despot.  To  cast  oft*  a  faithful  servant  only  for  being 
the  unhappy  bearer  of  ill  news,  degrades  the  man, 
and  dishonors  the  prince.  The  Congress,  by  em 
ploying  him,  have  shown  a  liberality  of  sentiment, 
not  confined  to  colonies  or  continents,  but,  to  use  the 
words  of  "  Common  Sense,"  have  "  carried  their 
friendship  on  a  larger  scale,  by  claiming  brotherhood 
with  every  European  Christian,  and  may  justly 
triumph  in  the  generosity  of  the  sentiment." 

Yesterday,  was  taken  and  carried  into  Cohasset, 
by  three  whaleboats,  who  went  from  the  shore  on 
purpose,  a  snow  from  the  Grenadas,  laden  with 

1  Probably  the  Baron  de  Woedtke,  who  was  appointed  by 
Congress  a  brigadier-general  on  the  16th  of  March,  and  order 
ed  to  Canada.  He  died  shortly  afterwards,  at  Lake  George. — 
See  Sparks's  edition  of  "  Washington's  Writings,"  Vol.  IV. 
p.  G,  note. 


96  LETTERS. 

three  hundred  and  fifty-four  puncheons  of  West  In 
dia  rum,  forty-three  barrels  of  sugar,  twelve  thou 
sand  and  five  hundred  weight  of  coffee  ;  a  valuable 
prize.  A  number  of  Eastern  sloops  have  brought 
wood  into  town  since  the  fleet  sailed.  We  have  a 
rumor  of  Admiral  Hopkins  being  engaged  with  a 
number  of  ships  and  tenders  off  Rhode  Island ;  and 
are  anxious  to  know  the  event.  Be  so  good  as  to 
send  me  a  list  of  the  vessels  which  sail  with  Hop 
kins,  their  names,  weight  of  metal,  and  number  of 
men  ;  all  the  news  you  know,  &c. 

I  hear  our  jurors  refuse  to  serve,  because  the  writs 
are  issued  in  the  King's  name.  Surely,  they  are  for 
independence. 

Write  me  how  you  do  this  winter.  I  want  to  say 
many  things  I  must  omit.  It  is  not  fit  "  to  wake  the 
soul  by  tender  strokes  of  art,"  or  to  ruminate  upon 
happiness  we  might  enjoy,  lest  absence  become  in 
tolerable.  Adieu.  Yours. 

I  wish  you  would  burn  all  my  letters. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Braintree,  7  May,  1770. 


How  many  are  the  solitary  hours  I  spend,  ruminat 
ing  upon  the  past,  and  anticipating  the  future,  whilst 
you,  overwhelmed  with  the  cares  of  state,  have  but 
a  few  moments  you  can  devote  to  any  individual. 


LETTERS.  97 

All  domestic  pleasures  and  enjoyments  are  absorbed 
in  the  great  and  important  duty  you  owe  your  coun 
try,  "  for  our  country  is,  as  it  were,  a  secondary 
god,  and  the  first  and  greatest  parent.  It  is  to  be 
preferred  to  parents,  wives,  children,  friends,  and  all 
things,  the  gods  only  excepted  ;  for,  if  our  country 
perishes,  it  is  as  impossible  to  save  an  individual,  as 
to  preserve  one  of  the  fingers  of  a  mortified  hand." 
Thus  do  I  suppress  every  wish,  and  silence  every 
murmur,  acquiescing  in  a  painful  separation  from 
the  companion  of  my  youth,  and  the  friend  of  my 
heart. 

I  believe  't  is  near  ten  days  since  I  wrote  you  a 
line.  I  have  not  felt  in  a  humor  to  entertain  you  if 
I  had  taken  up  my  pen.  Perhaps  some  unbecoming 
invective  might  have  fallen  from  it.  The  eyes  of 
our  rulers  have  been  closed,  and  a  lethargy  has  seiz 
ed  almost  every  member.  I  fear  a  fatal  security 
has  taken  possession  of  them.  Whilst  the  building 
is  in  flames,  they  tremble  at  the  expense  of  water  to 
quench  it.  In  short,  two  months  have  elapsed  since 
the  evacuation  of  Boston,  and  very  little  has  been 
done  in  that  time  to  secure  it,  or  the  harbour,  from 
future  invasion.  The  people  are  all  in  a  flame,  and 
no  one  among  us,  that  I  have  heard  of,  even  men 
tions  expense.  They  think,  universally,  that  there 
has  been  an  amazing  neglect  somewhere.  Many 
have  turned  out  as  volunteers  to  work  upon  Noddle's 
Island,  and  many  more  would  go  upon  Nantasket,  if 
the  business  was  once  set  on  foot.  "  'T  is  a  maxim 
of  state,  that  power  and  liberty  are  like  heat  and 

VOL.  i.  7 


98  LETTERS. 

moisture.  Where  they  are  well  mixed,  eveiy  thing 
prospers  ;  where  they  are  single,  they  are  destruc 
tive." 

A  government  of  more  stability  is  much  wanted 
in  this  colony,  and  they  are  ready  to  receive  it  from 
the  hands  of  the  Congress.  And  since  I  have  begun 
with  maxims  of  state,  I  will  add  another,  namely, 
that  a  people  may  let  a  king  fall,  yet  still  remain  a 
people  ;  but,  if  a  king  let  his  people  slip  from  him, 
he  is  no  longer  a  king.  And  as  this  is  most  certainly 
our  case,  why  not  proclaim  to  the  world,  in  decisive 
terms,  your  own  importance  ? 

Shall  we  not  be  despised  by  foreign  powers,  for 
hesitating  so  long  at  a  word  ? 

I  cannot  say,  that  1  think  you  are  very  generous  to 
the  ladies  ;  for,  whilst  you  are  proclaiming  peace  and 
good -will  to  men,  emancipating  all  nations,  you  in 
sist  upon  retaining  an  absolute  power  over  wives. 
'But  you  must  remember,  that  arbitrary  power  is  like 
most  other  things  which  are  very  hard,  very  liable 
to  be  broken  ;  and,  notwithstanding  all  your  wise  laws 
and  maxims,  we  have  it  in  our  power,  not  only  to 
free  ourselves,  but  to  subdue  our  masters,  and,  with 
out  violence,  throw  both  your  natural  and  legal 
authority  at  our  feet ;  — 

"  Charm  by  accepting,  by  submitting  sway, 
Yet  have  our  humor  most  when  we  obey." 

I  thank  you  for  several  letters  which  I  have  re 
ceived  since  I  wrote  last ;  they  alleviate  a  tedious 
absence,  and  I  long  earnestly  for  a  Saturday  eve- 


LETTERS.  99 

ning,  and  experience  a  similar  pleasure  to  that  which 
I  used  to  find  in  the  return  of  my  friend  upon  that 
day  after  a  week's  absence.  The  idea  of  a  year 
dissolves  all  my  philosophy. 

Our  little  ones,  whom  you  so  often  recommend  to 
my  care  and  instruction,  shall  not  be  deficient  in 
virtue  or  probity,  if  the  precepts  of  a  mother  have 
their  desired  effect ;  but  they  would  be  doubly  en 
forced,  could  they  be  indulged  with  the  example  of  a 
father  alternately  before  them.  I  often  point  them 
to  their  sire, 

"  engaged  in  a  corrupted  state, 
Wrestling  with  vice  and  faction." 

9  May. 

I  designed  to  have  finished  the  sheet,  but,  an 
opportunity  offering,  I  close,  only  just  informing  you 
that,  May  the  7th,  our  privateers  took  two  prizes  in 
the  bay,  in  fair  sight  of  the  man-of-war ;  one,  a  brig 
from  Ireland ;  the  other  from  Fayal,  loaded  with 
wine,  brandy,  &c. ;  the  other  with  beef,  &c.  The 
wind  was  east,  and  a  flood  tide,  so  that  the  tenders 
could  not  get  out,  though  tthey  tried  several  times  ; 
the  lighthouse  fired  signal  guns,  but  all  would  not  do. 
They  took  them  in  triumph,  and  carried  them  into 
Lynn. 

Pray  be  kind  enough  to  remember  me  at  all  times, 
and  write,  as  often  as  you  possibly  can,  to  your 

PORTIA. 


100  LETTERS. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Plymouth,  17  June,  1776,  a  remarkable  day. 

I  THIS  day  received  by  the  hands  of  our  worthy 
friend,  a  large  packet,  which  has  refreshed  and  com 
forted  me.  Your  own  sensations  have  ever  been 
similar  to  mine.  I  need  not  then  tell  you  how  grati 
fied  I  am  at  the  frequent  tokens  of  remembrance 
with  which  you  favor  me,  nor  how  they  rouse  every 
tender  sensation  of  my  soul,  which  sometimes  will 
find  vent  at  my  eyes.  Nor  dare  I  describe  how 
earnestly  I  long  to  fold  to  my  fluttering  heart  the 
object  of  my  warmest  affections ;  the  idea  soothes 
me.  I  feast  upon  it  with  a  pleasure  known  only  to 
those  whose  hearts  and  hopes  are  one. 

The  approbation  you  give  to  my  conduct  in  the 
management  of  our  private  affairs,  is  very  grateful 
to  me,  and  sufficiently  compensates  for  all  my  anxi 
eties  and  endeavours  to  discharge  the  many  duties 
devolved  upon  me  in  consequence  of  the  absence  of 
my  dearest  friend.  Were  they  discharged  according 
to  my  wishes,  I  should  merit  the  praises  you  bestow. 

You  see  I  date  from  Plymouth.  I  came  upon  a 
visit  to  our  amiable  friends,  accompanied  by  my  sis 
ter  Betsey,  a  day  or  two  ago.  It  is  the  first  night  I 
have  been  absent  since  you  left  me.  Having  deter 
mined  upon  this  visit  for  some  time,  I  put  my  family 
in  order  and  prepared  for  it,  thinking  I  might  leave 
it  with  safety.  Yet,  the  day  I  set  out,  I  was  under 


LETTERS.  101 

many  apprehensions,  by  the  coming  in  of  ten  trans 
ports,  who  were  seen  to  have  many  soldiers  on  board, 
and  the  determination  of  the  people  to  go  and  fortify 
upon  Long  Island,  Pettick's  Island,  Nantasket,  and 
Great  Hill.  It  was  apprehended  they  would  attempt 
to  land  somewhere,  but  the  next  morning  I  had  the 
pleasure  to  hear  they  were  all  driven  out,  Commo 
dore  and  all  ;  not  a  transport,  a  ship,  or  a  tender 
to  be  seen.  This  shows  what  might  have  been  long 
ago  done.  Had  this  been  done  in  season,  the  ten 
transports,  with  many  others,  in  all  probability  would 
have  fallen  into  our  hands  ;  but  the  progress  of  wisdom 
is  slow. 

Since  I  arrived  here  I  have  really  had  a  scene 
quite  novel  to  me.  The  brig  Defence^  from  Con 
necticut,  put  in  here  for  ballast.  The  officers,  who 
are  all  from  thence,  and  who  are  intimately  ac 
quainted  at  Dr.  Lothrop's,  invited  his  lady  to  come 
on  board,  and  bring  with  her  as  many  of  her  friends 
as  she  could  collect.  She  sent  an  invitation  to  our 
friend,  Mrs.  Warren,  and  to  us.  The  brig  lay  about 
a  mile  and  a  half  from  town.  The  officers  sent 
their  barge,  and  we  went.  Every  mark  of  respect 
and  attention  which  was  in  their  power,  they  showed 
us.  She  is  a  fine  brig,  mounts  sixteen  guns,  twelve 
swivels,  and  carries  one  hundred  and  twenty  men. 
A  hundred  and  seventeen  were  on  board,  and  no 
private  family  ever  appeared  under  better  regulation 
than  the  crew.  It  was  as  still  as  though  there  had 
been  only  half  a  dozen ;  not  a  profane  word  among 
any  of  them.  The  captain  himself  is  an  exemplary 


102  LETTERS. 

man  ;  (Harden  his  name)  has  heen  in  nine  sea 
engagements  ;  says  if  he  gets  a  man  who  swears, 
and  finds  he  cannot  reform  him,  he  turns  him  on 
shore,  yet  is  free  to  confess,  that  it  was  the  sin  of  his 
youth.  He  has  one  lieutenant,  a  very  fine  fellow, 
Smelden  by  name.  We  spent  a  very  agreeable  af 
ternoon,  and  drank  tea  on  board.  They  showed  us 
their  arms,  which  were  sent  by  Queen  Anne,  and 
everything  on  board  was  a  curiosity  to  me.  They 
gave  us  a  mock  engagement  with  an  enemy,  and  the 
manner  of  taking  a  ship.  The  young  folks  went 
upon  the  quarter  deck  and  danced.  Some  of  their 
Jacks  played  very  well  upon  the  violin  and  German 
flute.  The  brig  bears  the  Continental  colors,  and 
was  fitted  out  by  the  Colony  of  Connecticut.  As  we 
set  off  from  the  brig,  they  fired  their  guns  in  honor 
to  us,  a  ceremony  I  would  very  readily  have  dispensed 
with. 

I  pity  you,  and  feel  for  you  under  all  the  difficul 
ties  you  have  to  encounter.  My  daily  petitions  to 
Heaven  for  you  are,  that  you  may  have  health, 
wisdom,  and  fortitude  sufficient  to  carry  you  through 
the  great  and  arduous  business  in  which  you  are  en 
gaged,  and  that  your  endeavours  may  be  crowned 
with  success.  Canada  seems  a  dangerous  and  ill- 
fated  place.  It  is  reported  here,  that  General  Thom 
as  is  no  more,  that  he  took  the  smallpox,  and  died 
with  it.  Every  day  some  circumstance  arises,  which 
shows  me  the  importance  of  having  the  distemper 
in  youth.  Dr.  Bulfinch  has  petitioned  the  General 
Court  for  leave  to  open  a  hospital  somewhere,  and 


LETTERS.  103 

it  will  be  granted  him.  I  shall,  with  all  the  children, 
be  one  of,  the  first  class,  you  may  depend  upon  it. 

I  have  just  this  moment  heard,  that  the  brig,  which 
I  was  on  board  of  on  Saturday,  and  which  sailed 
yesterday  morning  from  this  place,  fell  in  with  two 
transports,  having  each  of  them  a  hundred  and  fifty 
men  on  board,  and  took  them,  and  has  brought  them 
into  Nantasket  Roads,  under  cover  of  the  guns  which 
are  mounted  there.  I  will  add  further  particulars  as 
soon  as  I  am  informed, 

I  am  now  better  informed,  and  will  give  you  the 
truth.  The  brig  Defence,  accompanied  by  a  small 
privateer,  sailed  in  concert  Sunday  morning.  About 
twelve  o'clock  they  discovered  two  transports,  and 
made  for  them.  Two  privateers,  which  were  small, 
had  been  in  chase  of  them,  but  finding  the  enemy 
was  of  much  larger  force,  had  run  under  Cohasset 
rocks.  The  Defence  gave  a  signal  gun  to  bring 
them  out.  Captain  Burk,  who  accompanied  the  De 
fence,  being  a  prime  sailer,  he  came  up  first,  and 
poured  a  broadside  on  board  a  sixteen  gun  brig. 
The  Defence  soon  attacked  her  upon  her  bows.  An 
obstinate  engagement  ensued.  There  was  a  con 
tinual  blaze  upon  all  sides  for  many  hours,  and  it 
was  near  midnight  before  they  struck.  In  the  en 
gagement,  the  Defence  lost  one  man,  and  five  wound 
ed.  With  Burk,  not  one  man  received  any  dam 
age  ;  on  board  the  enemy,  fourteen  killed,  among 
whom  was  a  major,  and  sixty  wounded.  They  are 
part  of  the  Highland  soldiers.  The  other  transport 
mounted  six  guns.  When  the  fleet  sailed  out  of  this 


104  LETTERS. 

harbor  last  week,  they  blew  up  the  lighthouse.  They 
met  six  transports  coming  in,  which  they  carried  off 
with  them.  I  hope  we  shall  soon  be  in  such  a  posture 
of  defence,  as  to  bid  them  defiance. 

I  feel  no  great  anxiety  at  the  large  armament  de 
signed  against  us.  The  remarkable  interpositions  of 
Heaven  in  our  favor  cannot  be  too  gratefully  ac 
knowledged.  He  who  fed  the  Israelites  in  the  wil 
derness,  "  who  clothes  the  lilies  of  the  field,  and  feeds 
the  young  ravens  when  they  cry,"  will  not  forsake  a 
people  engaged  in  so  righteous  a  cause,  if  we  re 
member  his  loving-kindness.  We  wanted  powder, 
—  we  have  a  supply.  We  wanted  arms,  —  we  have 
been  favored  in  that  respect.  We  wanted  hard  mon 
ey,  —  twenty-two  thousand  dollars,  and  an  equal 
value  in  plate,  are  delivered  into  our  hands. 

You  mention  your  peas,  your  cherries,  and  your 
strawberries,  &c.  Ours  are  but  just  in  blossom.  We 
have  had  the  coldest  spring  I  ever  knew.  Things 
are  three  weeks  behind  what  they  generally  used  to 
be.  The  corn  looks  poor.  The  season  now  is  rather 
dry.  I  believe  I  did  not  understand  you,  when  in 
a  former  letter  you  said,  "I  want  to  resign  my  of 
fice,  for  a  thousand  reasons."  If  you  mean  that  of 
judge,  I  know  not  what  to  say.  I  know  it  will  be  a 
difficult  and  arduous  station  ;  but,  divesting  myself 
of  private  interest,  which  would  lead  me  to  be  against 
your  holding  that  office,  I  know  of  no  person  who 
is  so  well  calculated  to  discharge  the  trust,  or  who  I 
think  would  act  a  more  conscientious  part. 


LETTERS.  105 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

29  September,  1776. 

NOT  since  the  5th  of  September,  have  I  had  one  line 
from  you,  which  makes  me  very  uneasy.  Are  you 
all  this  time  conferring  with  his  Lordship  ? l  Is  there 
no  communication  ?  or,  are  the  post-riders  all  dis 
missed  ?  Let  the  cause  be  what  it  will,  not  hearing 
from  you  has  given  me  much  uneasiness. 

We  seem  to  be  kept  in  total  ignorance  of  affairs 
at  York.  I  hope  you  at  Congress  are  more  enlight 
ened.  Who  fell,  who  are  wounded,  who  prisoners  or 
their  number,  is  as  undetermined  as  it  was  the  day 
after  the  battle.2  If  our  army  is  in  ever  so  critical  a 
state  I  wish  to  know  it,  and  the  worst  of  it.  If  all 
America  is  to  be  ruined  and  undone  by  a  pack  of 
cowards  and  knaves,  I  wish  to  know  it.  Pitiable  is 
the  lot  of  their  commander.  Caesar's  tenth  legion 
never  was  forgiven.  We  are  told  for  truth,  that  a 
regiment  of  Yorkers  refused  to  quit  the  city  ;  and, 
that  another  regiment  behaved  like  a  pack  of  cow 
ardly  villains  by  quitting  their  posts.  If  they  are 
unjustly  censured,  it  is  for  want  of  proper  intelli 
gence. 

1  Dr.  Franklin.  Mr.  John  Adams,  and  Mr.  Rutledge,  were 
elected  a  Committee  on  the  part  of  Congress,  to  confer  with 
Lord  Howe,   respecting  his   powers   to  treat.  —  Journals  of 
Congress,  September  6th,  1776. 

2  On  Long  Island. 


106  LETTERS. 

I  am  sorry  to  see  a  spirit  so  venal  prevailing  every 
where.  When  our  men  were  drawn  out  for  Canada, 
a  very  large  bounty  was  given  them  ;  and  now 
another  call  is  made  upon  us  ;  no  one  will  go  without 
a  large  bounty,  though  only  for  two  months,  and  each 
town  seems  to  think  its  honor  engaged  in  outbidding 
the  others.  The  province  pay  is  forty  shillings.  In 
addition  to  that,  this  town  voted  to  make  it  up  six 
pounds.  They  then  drew  out  the  persons  most  un 
likely  to  go,  and  they  are  obliged  to  give  three 
pounds  to  hire  a  man.  Some  pay  the  whole  fine, 
ten  pounds.  Forty  men  are  now  drafted  from  this 
town.  More  than  one  half,  from  sixteen  to  fifty, 
are  now  in  the  service.  This  method  of  conducting 
will  create  a  general  uneasiness  in  the  Continental 
army.  I  hardly  think  you  can  be  sensible  how 
much  we  are  thinned  in  this  province. 

The  rage  for  privateering  is  as  great  here  as  any 
where.  Vast  numbers  are  employed  in  that  way. 
If  it  is  necessary  to  make  any  more  drafts  upon 
us,  the  women  must  reap  the  harvests.  I  am  willing 
to  do  my  part.  I  believe  I  could  gather  corn,  and 
husk  it ;  but  I  should  make  a  poor  figure  at  digging 
potatoes. 

There  has  been  a  report,  that  a  fleet  was  seen  in 
our  bay  yesterday.  I  cannot  conceive  from  whence, 
nor  do  I  believe  the  story. 

'Tis  said  you  have  been  upon  Staten  Island  to 
hold  your  conference.  'Tis  a  little  odd,  that  I  have 
never  received  the  least  intimation  of  it  from  you. 
Did  you  think  I  should  be  alarmed  ?  Don't  you 


LETTERS.  1^7 

know  me  better  than  to  think  me  a  coward  ?  I  hope 
you  will  write  me  every  thing  concerning  this  affair. 
I  have  a  great  curiosity  to  know  the  result. 

As  to  government,  nothing  is  yet  done  about  it. 
The  Church  is  opened  here  every  Sunday,  and  the 
King  prayed  for,  as  usual,  in  open  defiance  of  Con 
gress. 

If  the  next  post  does  not  bring  me  a  letter,  I  think 
I  will  leave  off  writing,  for  I  shall  not  believe  you 
get  mine. 

Adieu.     Yours, . 

P.  S.  e  Master  John  has  become  post-rider  from 
Boston  to  Braintree. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

30  July,  1777. 

I  DARE  say,  before  this  time  you  have  interpreted  the 
Northern  Storm.  If  the  presages  chilled  your  blood, 
how  must  you  be  frozen  and  stiffened  at  the  disgrace 
brought  upon  our  arms  ! l  unless  some  warmer  pas 
sion  seize  you,  and  anger  and  resentment  fire  your 
breast.  How  are  all  our  vast  magazines  of  cannon, 
powder,  arms,  clothing,  provision,  medicine,  &c.,  to 
be  restored  to  us  ?  But,  what  is  vastly  more,  how 
shall  the  disgrace  be  wiped  away  ?  How  shall  our 

1  The  evacuation  of  Ticonderoga  and  Mount  Independence, 
by  General  St.  Clair. 


108  LETTERS. 

lost  honor  be  retrieved  ?  The  reports  with  regard 
to  that  fortress  are  very  vague  and  uncertain.  Some 
write  from  thence,  that  there  was  not  force  sufficient 
to  defend  it.  Others  say  it  might  have  stood  a  long 
siege.  Some  there  are,  who  ought  to  know  why  and 
wherefore  we  have  given  away  a  place  of  such 
importance. 

That  the  inquiry  will  be  made,  I  make  no  doubt ; 
and,  if  cowardice,  guilt,  deceit,  are  found  upon  any 
one,  howsoever  high  or  exalted  his  station,  may 
shame,  reproach,  infamy,  hatred,  and  the  execrations 
of  the  public,  be  his  portion. 

I  would  not  be  so  narrow-minded,  as  to  suppose, 
that  there  are  not  many  men  of  all  nations,  pos 
sessed  of  honor,  virtue,  and  integrity  ;  yet,  it  is  to  be 
lamented,  that  we  have  not  men  among  ourselves, 
sufficiently  qualified  for  war,  to  take  upon  them  the 
most  important  command. 

It  was  customary  among  the  Carthaginians,  to 
have  a  military  school,  in  which  the  flower  of  their 
nobility,  and  those  whose  talents  and  ambition 
prompted  them  to  aspire  to  the  first  dignities,  learned 
the  art  of  war.  From  among  these,  they  selected 
all  their  general  officers  ;  for,  though  they  employed 
mercenary  soldiers,  they  were  too  jealous  and  sus 
picious  to  employ  foreign  generals.  Will  a  foreigner, 
whose  interest  is  not  naturally  connected  with  ours 
(any  otherwise  than  as  the  cause  of  liberty  is  the 
cause  of  all  mankind),  will  he  act  with  the  same 
zeal,  or  expose  himself  to  equal  dangers,  with  the 
same  resolution,  for  a  republic  of  which  he  is  not  a 


LETTERS.  109 

member,  as  he  would  have  done  for  his  own  native 
country  ?  And  can  the  people  repose  an  equal  con 
fidence  in  them,  even  supposing  them  men  of  integ 
rity  and  abilities,  and  that  they  meet  with  success 
equal  to  their  abilities  ?  How  much  envy  and  malice 
are  employed  against  them  !  And  how  galling  to 
pride,  how  mortifying  to  human  nature,  to  see  itself 
excelled. 

31  July. 

I  have  nothing  new  to  entertain  you  with,jjj^less 
it  is  an  account  of  a  new  set  of  mobility,  which  has 
lately  taken  the  lead  in  Boston.  You  must  know 
that*  there  is  a  great  scarcity  of  sugar  and  coffee, 
articles  which  the  female  part  of  the  state  is  very 
loth  to  give  up,  especially  whilst  they  consider  the 
scarcity  occasioned  by  the  merchants  having  secret 
ed  a  large  quantity.  There  had  been  much  rout 
and  noise  in  the  town  for  several  weeks.  Some 
stores  had  been  opened  by  a  number  of  people,  and 
the  coffee  and  sugar  carried  into  the  market,  and 
dealt  out  by  pounds.  It  was  rumored  that  an  emi 
nent,  wealthy,  stingy  merchant1  (who  is  a  bachelor) 
had  a  hogshead  of  coffee  in  his  store,  which  he  re 
fused  to  sell  to  the  committee  under  six  shillings  per 
pound.  A  number  of  females,  some  say  a  hundred, 
some  say  more,  assembled  with  a  cart  and  trucks, 
marched  down  to  the  warehouse,  and  demanded  the 

1  Said  to  have  been  Thomas  Boylston,  who  afterwards  left 
this  country  and  settled  in  London. 


110  LETTERS. 

keys,  which  he  refused  to  deliver.  Upon  which,  one 
of  them  seized  him  by  his  neck,  and  tossed  him  into 
the  cart.  Upon  his  finding  no  quarter,  he  delivered 
the  keys,  when  they  tipped  up  the  cart  and  discharg 
ed  him  ;  then  opened  the  warehouse,  hoisted  out  the 
coffee  themselves,  put  it  into  the  truck,  and  drove  off. 

It  was  reported,  that  he  had  personal  chastisement 
among  them  ;  but  this,  I  believe,  was  not  true.  A 
large  concourse  of  men  stood  amazed,  silent  specta 
tors  of  the  whole  transaction. 

A^^eu.  Your  good  mother  is  just  come ;  she 
desires  to  be  remembered  to  you  ;  so  do  my  father 
and  sfeter,  who  have  just  left  me,  and  so  does  she, 
whose  greatest  happiness  consists  in  being  tenderly 
beloved  by  her  absent  friend,  and  who  subscribes 
herself  ever  his 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

5  August,  1777. 

IF  alarming  half  a  dozen  places  at  the  same  time  is 
an  act  of  generalship,  Howe  may  boast  of  his  late 
conduct.  We  have  never,  since  the  evacuation  of 
Boston,  been  under  apprehensions  of  an  invasion 
from  them,  equal  to  what  we  suffered  last  week. 
All  Boston  was  in  confusion,  packing  up  and  carting 
out  of  town  household  furniture,  military  stores, 


LETTERS.  Ill 

goods,  &c.  Not  less  than  a  thousand  teams  were  em 
ployed  on  Friday  and  Saturday  ;  and,  to  their  shame 
be  it  told,  not  a  small  trunk  would  they  carry  under 
eight  dollars,  and  many  of  them,  I  am  told,  asked  a 
hundred  dollars  a  load  ;  for  carting  a  hogshead  of 
molasses  eight  miles,  thirty  dollars.  O  human  na 
ture  !  or  rather,  O  inhuman  nature  !  what  art  thou  ? 
The  report  of  the  fleet's  being  seen  off  Cape  Ann 
Friday  night  gave  me  the  alarm,  and,  though  'pretty 
weak,  I  set  about  packing  up  my  things,  and  on 
Saturday  removed  a  load. 

When  I  looked  around  me  and  beheld  the  boun 
ties  of  Heaven  so  liberally  bestowed,  in  fine  n%ds  of 
corn,  grass,  flax,  and  English  grain,  and  thought  it 
might  soon  become  a  prey  to  these  merciless  rav- 
agers,  our  habitations  laid  waste,  and,  if  our  flight 
preserved  our  lives,  we  must  return  to  barren  fields, 
empty  barns,  and  desolate  habitations,  if  any  we 
find,  (perhaps  not  where  to  lay  our  heads,)  my  heart 
was  too  full  to  bear  the  weight  of  affliction  which  I 
thought  just  ready  to  overtake  us,  and  my  body  too 
weak  almost  to  bear  the  shock,  unsupported  by  my 
better  half. 

But,  thanks  be  to  Heaven,  we  are  at  present  re 
lieved  from  our  fears  respecting  ourselves.  I  now 
feel  anxious  for  your  safety,  but  hope  prudence  will 
direct  to  a  proper  care  and  attention  to  yourselves. 
May  this  second  attempt  of  Howe's  prove  his  utter 
ruin.  May  destruction  overtake  him  as  a  whirlwind. 

We  have  a  report  of  an  engagement  at  the  north 
ward,  in  which  our  troops  behaved  well,  drove  the 


112  LETTERS. 

enemy  into  their  lines,  killed  and  took  three  hun 
dred  and  fifty  prisoners.  The  account  came  in  last 
night.  I  have  not  particulars.  We  are  under  ap 
prehensions  that  the  Hancock  is  taken. 

Your  obliging  letters  of  the  8th,  10th,  and  13th, 
came  to  hand  last  week.  I  hope  before  this  time 
you  are  relieved  from  the  anxiety  you  express  for 
your  bosom  friend.  I  feel  my  sufferings  amply  re 
warded,  in  the  tenderness  you  express  for  me.  But, 
in  one  of  your  letters,  you  have  drawn  a  picture 
which  drew  a  flood  of  tears  from  my  eyes,  and 
wrung  my  heart  with  anguish  inexpressible.  I  pray 
Heaven,  I  may  not  live  to  realize  it. 

It  is  almost  thirteen  years  since  we  were  united, 
but  not  more  than  half  that  time  have  we  had  the 
happiness  of  living  together.  The  unfeeling  world 
may  consider  it  in  what  light  they  please.  I  con 
sider  it  as  a  sacrifice  to  my  country,  and  one  of  my 
greatest  misfortunes,  to  be  separated  from  my  child 
ren,  at  a  time  of  life  when  the  joint  instructions  and 
admonition  of  parents  sink  deeper  than  in  maturer 
years. 

The  hope  of  the  smiles  and  approbation  of  my 
friend  sweetens  all  my  toils  and  labors. 


Ye  Powers,  whom  men  and  birds  obey, 
Great  rulers  of  your  creatures,  say 
Why  mourning  comes,  by  bliss  conveyed, 
And  even  the  sweets  of  love  allayed. 
Where  grows  enjoyment  tall  and  fair, 
Around  it  twines  entangling  care ; 


LETTERS.  113 

While  fear  for  what  our  sons  possess 
Enervates  every  power  to  bless. 
Yet  friendship  forms  the  bliss  above, 
And,  life,  what  art  thou  without  love  ?" 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

]7  September,  1777. 

I  HAVE  to  acknowledge  a  feast  of  letters  from  you 
since  I  wrote  last ;  their  dates  from  August  19th 
to  September  1st.  It  is  a  very  great  satisfaction  to 
me  to  know  from  day  to  day  the  movement  of  Howe 
and  his  banditti.  We  live  in  hourly  expectation  of 
important  intelligence  .  from  both  armies.  Heaven 
grant  us  victory  and  peace  ;  two  blessings,  I  fear, 
we  are  very  undeserving  of. 

Enclosed  you  will  find  a  letter  to  Mr.  Lovell,1  who 
was  so  obliging  as  to  send  me  a  plan  of  that  part  of 
the  country,  which  is  like  to  be  the  present  seat  of 
war.  He  accompanied  it  with  a  very  polite  fetter, 
and  I  esteem  myself  much  obliged  to  him  ;  but  there 
is  no  reward  this  side  the  grave  that  would  be  a 
temptation  to  me  to  undergo  the  agitation  and  dis 
tress  I  was  thrown  into  by  receiving  a  letter  in  his 
handwriting,  franked  by  him.  It  seems  almost  im 
possible,  that  the  human  mind  could  take  in,  in  so 

1  James  Lovell ;  at.  this  time,  and  for  several  years  after,  a 
delegate  from  Massachusetts  to  the  General  Congress. 
VOL.   I.  8 


1 14  LETTERS. 

small  a  space  of  time,  so  many  ideas  as  rushed  upon 
mine  in  the  space  of  a  moment.  I  cannot  describe 
to  you  what  I  felt. 

The  sickness  or  death  of  the  dearest  of  friends, 
with  ten  thousand  horrors,  seized  my  imagination.  I 
took  up  the  letter,  then  laid  it  down,  then  gave  it  out 
of  my  hand  unable  to  open  it,  then  collected  reso 
lution  enough  to  unseal  it,  but  dared  not  read  it ; 
began  at  the  bottom,  —  read  a  line,  —  then  attempted 
to  begin  it,  but  could  not.  A  paper  was  enclosed, 
I  ventured  upon  that,  and,  finding  it  a  plan,  recovered 
enough  to  read  the  letter  ;  but  I  pray  Heaven,  I  may 
never  realize  such  another  moment  of  distress*, 

I  designed  to  have  written  you  a  long  letter,  for 
really  I  owe  you  one,  but  have  been  prevented  by 
our  worthy  Plymouth  friends,  who  are  here  upon  a 
visit,  in  their  way  home  ;  and  it  is  now  so  late  at 
night,  just  struck  twelve,  that  I  will  defer  any  thing 
further  till  the  next  post.  Good  night,  friend  of  my 
heart,  companion  of  my  youth,  husband,  and  lover. 
Angels  watch  thy  repose  ! 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Boston,  25  October,  1777. 

THE  joyful  news  of  the  surrender  of  General  Bur- 
goyne  and  all  his  army,  to  our  victorious  troops, 
prompted  me  to  take  a  ride  this  afternoon  with  my 
daughter  to  town,  to  join,  to-morrow,  with  my  friends 


LETTERS.  115 

in  thanksgiving  and  praise  to  the  Supreme  Being, 
who  hath  so  remarkably  delivered  our  enemies  into 
our  hands.  And,  hearing  that  an  express  is  to  go  off 
to-morrow  morning,  I  have  retired  to  write  you  a  few 
lines.  I  hove  received  no  letters  from  you  since  you 
left  Philadelphia1  by  the  post,  and  but  one  by  any 
private  hand. 

Burgoyne  is  expected  in  by  the  middle  of  the 
week.  I  have  read  many  articles  of  capitulation, 
but  none  which  ever  before  contained  so  generous 
terms.  Many  people  find  fault  with  them,  but  per 
haps  do  not  consider  sufficiently  the  circumstances 
of  General  Gates,  who,  by  delaying  and  exacting 
more,  might  have  lost  all.  This  must  be  said  of 
him,  that  he  has  followed  the  golden  rule,  and  done 
as  he  would  wish  himself,  in  like  circumstances,  to 
be  dealt  with.  Must  not  the  vaporing  Burgoyne, 
who,  it  is  said,  possesses  great  sensibility,  be  humbled 
to  the  dust  ?  He  may  now  write  the  Blockade  of 
Saratoga.  I  have  heard  it  proposed,  that  he  should 
take  up  his  quarters  in  the  Old  South,  but  believe 
he  will  not  be  permitted  to  come  to  this  town. 
Heavc-n  grant  us  success  at  the  southward.  That 
saying  of  Poor  Richard  often  occurs  to  my  mind, 
4  God  helps  them  who  help  themselves  ;"  but,  if  men 
turn  their  backs  and  run  from  an  enemy,  they  cannot 
surely  expect  to  conquer  him. 

This  day,  dearest  of  friends,  completes  thirteen 
years  since  we  were  solemnly  united  in  wedlock. 

1  For  Yorktown,  whither  the  Congress  had  adjourned. 


116  LETTERS. 

Three  years  of  this  time  we  have  been  cruelly  sep 
arated.  I  have,  patiently  as  I  could,  endured  it,  with 
the  belief  that  you  were  serving  your  country,  and 
rendering  your  fellow  creatures  essential  benefits. 
May  future  generations  rise  up  and  call  you  blessed, 
and  the  present  behave  worthy  of  the  blessings  you 
are  laboring  to  secure  to  them,  and  I  shall  have  less 
reason  to  regret  the  deprivation  of  my  own  particular 
felicity. 

Adieu,  dearest  of  friends,  adieu. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

8  March,  1778. 

'T  is  a  little  more  than  three  weeks  since  the  dearest 
of  friends  and  tenderest  of  husbands  left l  his  solitary 
partner,  and  quitted  all  the  fond  endearments  of 
domestic  felicity  for  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  exposed, 
perhaps,  to  the  attack  of  a  hostile  foe,  and,  O  good 
Heaven !  can  I  add,  to  the  dark  assassin,  to  the  secret 
murderer,  and  the  bloody  emissary  of  as  cruel  a 
tyrant  as  God,  in  his  righteous  judgments,  ever  suf 
fered  to  disgrace  the  throne  of  Britain. 

I  have  travelled  with  you  over  the  wide  Atlantic, 
and  could  have  landed  you  safe,  with  humble  confi 
dence,  at  your  desired  haven,  and  then  have  set 
myself  down  to  enjoy  a  negative  kind  of  happiness, 

1  Mr.  Adams,  with  his  eldest  son,  sailed  for  France  in  the 
frigate  Boston  in  February  of  this  year. 


LETTERS.  117 

in  the  painful  part  which  it  has  pleased  Heaven  to 
allot  me  ;  but  the  intelligence  with  regard  to  that 
great  philosopher,  able  statesman,  and  unshaken 
friend  of  his  country,1  has  planted  a  dagger  in  my 
breast,  and  I  feel,  with  a  double  edge,  the  weapon 
that  pierced  the  bosom  of  a  Franklin. 

"  For  nought  avail  the  virtues  of  the  heart, 
Nor  towering  genius  claims  its  due  reward  ; 

From  Britain's  fury,  as  from  death's  keen  dart, 
No  worth  can  save  us,  and  no  fame  can  guard." 

The  more  distinguished  the  person,  the  greater 
the  inveteracy  of  these  foes  of  human  nature.  The 
argument  of  my  friends  to  alleviate  my  anxiety,  by 
persuading  me  that  this  shocking  attempt  will  put 
you  more  upon  your  guard  and  render  your  person 
more  secure  than  if  it  had  never  taken  place,  is  kind 
in  them,  and  has  some  weight ;  but  my  greatest  com 
fort  and  consolation  arise  from  the  belief  of  a  su 
perintending  Providence  to  whom  I  can,  with  confi 
dence,  commit  you,  since  not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the 
ground  without  his  notice.  Were  it  not  for  this,  I 
should  be  miserable  and  overwhelmed  by  my  fears 
and  apprehensions. 

Freedom  of  sentiment,  the  life  and  soul  of  friend 
ship,  is  in  a  great  measure  cut  off  by  the  danger  of 
miscarriage,  and  the  apprehension  of  letters  falling 
into  the  hands  of  our  enemies.  Should  this  meet 
with  that  fate,  may  they  blush  for  their  connexion 

1  An  unfounded  rumor  of  the  assassination  of  Dr.  Franklin 
in  Paris. 


118  LETTERS. 

with  a  nation  who  have  rendered  themselves  infa 
mous  and  abhorred,  by  a  long  list  of  crimes,  which 
not  their  high  achievements,  nor  the  lustre  of  former 
deeds,  nor  the  tender  appellation  of  parent,  nor  the 
fond  connexion  which  once  subsisted,  can  ever  blot 
from  our  remembrance,  nor  wipe  out  those  indelible 
stains  of  their  cruelty  and  baseness.  They  have  en 
graven  them  with  a  pen  of  iron  on  a  rock  for  ever. 

To  my  dear  son  remember  me  in  the  most  affec 
tionate  terms.  I  would  have  written  to  him,  but  my 
notice  is  so  short  that  I  have  not  time.  Enjoin  it 
upon  him  never  to  disgrace  his  mother,  and  to  be 
have  worthily  of  his  father.  Tender  as  maternal 
affection  is,  it  was  swallowed  up  in  what  I  found  a 
stronger,  or  so  intermixed  that  I  felt  it  not  in  its  full 
force  till  after  he  had  left  me.  I  console  myself  with 
the  hopes  of  his  reaping  advantages  under  the  care 
ful  eye  of  a  tender  parent,  which  it  was  not  in  my 
power  to  bestow  upon  him. 

There  has  nothing  material  taken  place  in  the  po 
litical  world  since  you  left  us.  This  letter  will  go  by 
a  vessel  for  Bilboa,  from  whence  you  may,  perhaps, 
get  better  opportunities  of  conveyance  than  from  any 
other  place.  The  letter  you  delivered  to  the  pilot 
came  safe  to  hand.  All  the  little  folks  are  anxious 
for  the  safety  of  their  papa  and  brother,  to  whom 
they  desire  to  be  remembered ;  to  which  is  added  the 
tenderest  sentiments  of  affection,  and  the  fervent 
prayers  for  your  happiness  and  safety,  of  your 

PORTIA. 


LETTERS.  119 


TO    JOHN  ADAMS. 

18  May,  1773. 

I  HAVE  waited  with  great  patience,  restraining,  as 
much  as  possible,  every  anxious  idea  for  three 
months.  But  now  every  vessel  which  arrives  sets 
my  expectation  upon  the  wing,  and  I  pray  my  guard 
ian  genius  to  waft  me  the  happy  tidings  of  your  safe 
ty  and  welfare.  Hitherto  my  wandering  ideas  have 
roved,  like  the  son  of  Ulysses,  from  sea  to  sea,  and 
from  shore  to  shore,  not  knowing  where  to  find  you ; 
sometimes  I  fancied  you  upon  the  mighty  waters,  — 
sometimes  at  your  desired  haven,  —  sometimes  upon 
the  ungrateful  and  hostile  shore  of  Britain,  —  but  at 
all  times,  and  in  all  places,  under  the  protecting  care 
and  guardianship  of  that  Being,  who  not  only  clothes 
the  lilies  of  the  field,  and  hears  the  young  ravens 
when  they  cry,  but  hath  said,  "  Of  how  much  more 
worth  are  ye  than  many  sparrows  ;"  and  this  con 
fidence,  which  the  world  cannot  deprive  me  of,  is 
my  food  by  day,  and  my  rest  by  night,  and  was  all 
my  consolation  under  the  horrid  ideas  of  assassina 
tion,  —  the  only  event  of  which  I  had  not  thought, 
and,  in  some  measure,  prepared  my  mind. 

When  my  imagination  sets  you  down  upon  the 
Gallic  shore,  a  land  to  which  Americans  are  now 
bound  to  transfer  their  affections,  and  to  eradicate 
all  those  national  prejudices,  which  the  proud  and 
haughty  nation,  whom  we  once  revered,  craftily  in* 


120  LETTERS. 

stilled  into  us,  whom  they  once  styled  their  children, 
I  anticipate  the  pleasure  you  must  feel,  and,  though 
so  many  leagues  distant,  share  in  the  joy  of  finding 
the  great  interest  of  our  country  so  generously  es 
poused  and  nobly  aided  by  so  powerful  a  monarch. 
Your  prospects  must  be  much  brightened  ;  for,  when 
you  left  your  native  land,  they  were  rather  gloomy 
If  an  unwearied  zeal  and  persevering  attachment  to 
the  cause  of  truth  and  justice,  regardless  of  the  al 
lurements  of  ambition  on  the  one  hand,  or  the  threats 
of  calamity  on  the  other,  can  entitle  any  one  to  the 
reward  of  peace,  liberty,  and  safety,  a  large  portion 
of  those  blessings  are  reserved  for  my  friend  in  his 
native  land. 

"  O  !  wouldst  thou  keep  thy  country's  loud  applause, 

Loved  as  her  father,  as  her  God  adored, 

Be  still  the  bold  asserter  of  her  cause, 

Her  voice  in  council ;  (in  the  fight  her  sword  ;) 

In  peace,  in  war,  pursue  thy  country's  good, 

For  her,  bare  thy  bold  breast  and  pour  thy  generous  blood." 

Difficult  as  the  day  is,  cruel  as  this  war  has  been, 
separated  as  I  am,  on  account  tof  it,  from  the  dearest 
connexion  in  life,  I  would  not  exchange  my  country 
for  the  wealth  of  the  Indies,  or  be  any  other  than  an 
American,  though  I  might  be  queen  or  empress  of 
any  nation  upon  the  globe.  My  soul  is  unambitious 
of  pomp  or  power.  Beneath  my  humble  roof,  bless 
ed  with  the  society  and  tenderest  affection  of  my 
dear  partner,  I  have  enjoyed  as  much  felicity  and  as 
exquisite  happiness,  as  falls  to  the  share  of  mortals. 


LETTERS.  121 

And,  though  I  have  been  called  to  sacrifice  to  my 
country,  I  can  glory  in  my  sacrifice  and  derive  pleas 
ure  from  my  intimate  connexion  with  one,  who  is 
esteemed  worthy  of  the  important  trust  devolved 
upon  him. 

Britain,  as  usual,  has  added  insult  to  injustice  and 
cruelty,  by  what  she  calls  a  conciliatory  plan.  From 
my  soul  I  despise  her  meanness  ;  but  she  has  long 
ago  lost  that  treasure,  which,  a  great  authority  tells 
us,  exalteth  a  nation,  and  is  receiving  the  reproaches 
due  to  her  crimes.  I  have  been  much  gratified  with 
the  perusal  of  the  Duke  of  Richmond's  speech. 
Were  there  ten  such  men  to  be  found,  I  should  still 
have  some  hopes,  that  a  revolution  would  take  place 
in  favor  of  the  virtuous  few,  "  and  the  laws,  the 
rights,  the  generous  plan  of  power  delivered  down 
from  age  to  age  by  our  renowned  forefathers,"  be 
again  restored  to  that  unhappy  island. 

Our  public  finances  are  upon  no  better  footing 
than  they  were  when  you  left  us.  Five  hundred  dol 
lars  is  now  offered  by  this  town,  per  man,  for  nine 
months,  to  recruit  the  army.  Twelve  pounds  a  month 
for  farming  labor  is  the  price,  and  it  is  not  to  be 
procured  under.  Our  friends  are  all  well  and  desire 
to  be  remembered  to  you.  So  many  tender  senti 
ments  rush  upon  my  mind,  when  about  to  close  this 
letter  to  you,  that  I  can  only  ask  you  to  measure 
them  by  those  which  you  find  in  your  own  bosom  for 
Your  affectionate 

PORTIA. 


122  LETTERS. 


TO    JOHN    QUINCY    ADAMS. 

June,  1778. 

MY    DEAR    SON, 

'T  is  almost  four  months  since  you  left  your  native 
land,  and  embarked  upon  the  mighty  waters,  in  quest 
of  a  foreign  country.  Although  I  have  not  particu 
larly  written  to  you  since,  yet  you  may  be  assured 
you  have  constantly  been  upon  my  heart  and  mind. 

It  is  a  very  difficult  task,  my  dear  son,  for  a  tender 
parent  to  bring  her  mind  to  part  with  a  child  of 
your  years  going  to  a  distant  land  ;  nor  could  I  have 
acquiesced  in  such  a  separation  under  any  other  care 
than  that  of  the  most  excellent  parent  and  guardian 
who  accompanied  you.  You  have  arrived  at  years 
capable  of  improving  under  the  advantages  you  will 
be  likely  to  have,  if  you  do  but  properly  attend  to 
them.  They  are  talents  put  into  your  hands,  of 
which  an  account  will  be  required  of  you  hereafter  ; 
and,  being  possessed  of  one,  two,  or  four,  see  to  it 
that  you  double  your  numbers. 

The  most  amiable  and  most  useful  disposition  in  a 
young  mind  is  diffidence  of  itself;  and  this  should 
lead  you  to  seek  advice  and  instruction  from  him, 
who  is  your  natural  guardian,  and  will  always  coun 
sel  and  direct  you  in  the  best  manner,  both  for  your 
present  and  future  happiness.  You  are  in  possession 
of  a  natural  good  understanding,  and  of  spirits  un 
broken  by  adversity  and  untamed  with  care.  Im- 


LETTERS.  123 

prove  your  understanding  by  acquiring  useful  knowl 
edge  and  virtue,  such  as  will  render  you  an  orna 
ment  to  society,  an  honor  to  your  country,  and  a 
blessing  to  your  parents.  Great  learning  and  supe 
rior  abilities,  should  you  ever  possess  them,  will  be 
of  little  value  and  small  estimation,  unless  virtue, 
honor,  truth,  and  integrity  are  added  to  them.  Ad 
here  to  those  religious  sentiments  and  principles 
which  were  early  instilled  into  your  mind,  and  re 
member,  that  you  are  accountable  to  your  Maker 
for  all  your  words  and  actions. 

Let  me  enjoin  it  upon  you  to  attend  constantly  and 
steadfastly  to  the  precepts  and  instructions  of  your 
father,  as  you  value  the  happiness  of  your  mother 
and  your  own  welfare.  His  care  and  attention  to 
you  render  many  things  unnecessary  for  me  to 
write,  which  I  might  otherwise  do ;  bat  the  inadver 
tency  and  heedlessness  of  youth  require  line  upon 
line  and  precept  upon  precept,  and,  when  enforced 
by  the  joint  efforts  of  both  parents,  will,  I  hope,  have 
a  due  influence  upon  your  conduct ;  for,  dear  as  you 
are  to  me,  I  would  much  rather  you  should  have 
found  your  grave  in  the  ocean  you  have  crossed,  or 
that  any  untimely  death  crop  you  in  your  infant 
years,  than  see  you  an  immoral,  profligate,  or  grace 
less  child. 

You  have  entered  early  in  life  upon  the  great 
theatre  of  the  world,  which  is  full  of  temptations 
and  vice  of  every  kind.  You  are  not  wholly  unac 
quainted  with  history,  in  which  you  have  read  of 
crimes  which  your  inexperienced  mind  could  scarcely 


124  LETTERS. 

believe   credible.     You    have    been    taught  to  think 
of  them  with  horror,  and  to  view  vice  as 

"  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
That,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen." 

Yet  you  must  keep  a  strict  guard  upon  yourself, 
or  the  odious  monster  will  soon  lose  its  terror  by  be 
coming  familiar  to  you.  The  modern  history  of  our 
own  times,  furnishes  as  black  a  list  of  crimes,  as  can 
be  paralleled  in  ancient  times,  even  if  we  go  back  to 
Nero,  Caligula,  or  Caesar  Borgia.  Young  as  you 
are,  the  cruel  war,  into  which  we  have  been  compel 
led  by  the  haughty  tyrant  of.  Britain  and  the  bloody 
emissaries  of  his  vengeance,  may  stamp  upon  your 
mind  this  certain  truth,  that  the  welfare  and  pros 
perity  of  all  countries,  communities,  and,  I  may  add, 
individuals,  depend  upon  their  morals.  That  nation 
to  which  we  were  once  united,  as  it  has  departed 
from  justice,  eluded  and  subverted  the  wise  laws 
which  formerly  governed  it,  and  suffered  the  worst 
of  crimes  to  go  unpunished,  has  lost  its  valor,  wis 
dom,  and  humanity,  and,  from  being  the  dread  and 
terror  of  Europe,  has  sunk  into  derision  and  infamy. 

But,  to  quit  political  subjects,  I  have  been  greatly 
anxious  for  your  safety,  having  never  heard  of  the 
frigate  since  she  sailed,  till,  about  a  week  ago,  a 
New  York  paper  informed,  that  she  was  taken  and 
carried  into  Plymouth.  I  did  not  fully  credit  this 
report,  though  it  gave  me  much  uneasiness.  I  yes 
terday  heard  that  a  French  vessel  was  arrived  at 
Portsmouth,  which  brought  news  of  the  safe  arrival 


LETTERS.  125 

of  the  Boston ;  but  this  wants  confirmation.  I  hope 
it  will  not  be  long  before  I  shall  be  assured  of  your 
safety.  You  must  write  me  an  account  of  your 
voyage,  of  your  situation,  and  of  every  thing  enter 
taining  you  can  recollect. 

Be  assured  I  am  most  affectionately  yours, 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

30  June,  1778. 

DEAREST  OF  FRIENDS, 

SHALL  I  tell  my  dearest,  that  tears  of  joy  filled  my 
eyes  this  morning  at  the  sight  of  his  well-known 
hand  ?  —  the  first  line  which  has  blessed  my  sight, 
since  his  four  months'  absence,  during  which  time  I 
have  never  been  able  to  learn  a  word  from  him  or 
my  dear  son,  till,  about  ten  days  ago,  an  English 
paper,  taken  in  a  prize  and  brought  into  Salem,  con- 
tained  an  account,  under  the  Paris  news,  of  your  ar 
rival  at  the  abode  of  Dr.  Franklin  ;  and,  last  week,  a 
cartel,  from  Halifax,  brought  Captain  Welch,  of  the 
Boston,  who  informed  that  he  left  you  well  the  llth  of 
March,  and  that  he  had  letters  for  me,  but  destroyed 
them  when  he  was  taken  ;  and  this  is  all  the  informa 
tion  I  have  ever  been  able  to  obtain.  Our  enemies 
have  told  us  the  vessel  was  taken,  and  named  the 


126  LETTERS. 

frigate  which  took  her,  and  that  she  was  carried  into 
Plymouth.  I  have  lived  a  life  of  fear  and  anxiety 
ever  since  you  left  me.  Not  more  than  a  week  after 
your  absence,  the  horrid  story  of  Dr.  Franklin's  as 
sassination  was  received  from  France,  and  sent  by 
Mr.  Purveyance,  of  Baltimore,  to  Congress  and  to 
Boston.  Near  two  months,  before  that  was  contra 
dicted.  Then  we  could  not  hear  a  word  from  the 
Boston,  and  most  people  gave  her  up,  as  taken  or 
lost.  Thus  has  my  mind  been  agitated  like  a  trou 
bled  sea. 

You  will  easily  conceive,  how  grateful  your  favor 
of  April  25th,  and  those  of  our  son,  were  tg  me 
and  mine  ;  though  I  regret  your  short  warning,  and 
the  little  time  you  had  to  write,  by  which  means  I 
know  not  how  you  fared  upon  your  voyage,  what 
reception  you  have  met  with  (not  even  from  the  la 
dies,  though  you  profess  yourself  an  admirer  of 
them)  and  a  thousand  circumstances  which  I  wish 
to  know,  and  which  are  always  particularly  interest 
ing  to  near  connexions,  I  must  request  you  always 
to  be  minute,  and  to  write  me  by  every  conveyance. 
Some,  perhaps,  which  may  appear  unlikely  to  reach 
me,  will  be  the  first  to  arrive.  I  own  I  was  mortified 
at  so  short  a  letter,  but  I  quiet  my  heart  with  think 
ing  there  are  many  more  upon  their  passage  to  me. 
I  have  written  several  before  this,  and  some  of  them 
very  long. 

Now  I  know  you  are  safe,  I  wish  myself  with 
you.  Whenever  you  entertain  such  a  wish,  recollect 
that  I  would  have  willingly  hazarded  all  dangers  to 


LETTERS.  1*27 

have  been  your  companion ;  but,  as  that  was  not 
permitted,  you  must  console  me  in  your  absence,  by 
a  recital  of  all  your  adventures  ;  though,  methinks,  I 
would  not  have  them  in  all  respects  too  similar  to 
those  related  of  your  venerable  colleague,  whose 
Mentor-like  appearance,  age,  and  philosophy  most 
certainly  lead  the  politico-scientific  ladies  of  France 
to  suppose  they  are  embracing  the  god  of  wisdom 
in  a  human  form  ;  but  I,  who  own  that  I  never  yet 
"  wished  an  angel,  whom  I  loved  a  man,"  shall  be  full 
as  content  if  those  divine  honors  are  omitted.  The 
whole  heart  of  my  friend  is  in  the  bosom  of  his 
partner.  More  than  half  a  score  of  years  have  so 
riveted  it  there,  that  the  fabric  which  contains  it 
must  crumble  into  dust,  ere  the  particles  can  be  sep 
arated.  I  can  hear  of  the  brilliant  accomplishments 
of  any  of  my  sex  with  pleasure,  and  rejoice  in  that 
liberality  of  sentiment  which  acknowledges  them. 
At  the  same  time,  I  regret  the  trifling,  narrow,  con 
tracted  education  of  the  females  of  my  own  coun 
try.  I  have  entertained  a  superior  opinion  of  the 
accomplishments  of  the  French  ladies,  ever  since  I 
read  the  letters  of  Dr.  Shebbeare,  who  professes  that 
he  had  rather  take  the  opinion  of  an  accomplished 
lady,  in  matters  of  polite  writing,  than  the  first  wits 
of  Italy  ;  and  should  think  himself  safer,  with  her 
approbation,  than  with  that  of  a  long  list  of  literati ; 
and  he  gives  this  reason  for  it,  that  women  have,  in 
general,  more  delicate  sensations  than  men  ;  what 
touches  them,  is  for  the  most  part  true  in  nature, 
whereas  men,  warped  by  education,  judge  amiss 


128  LETTERS. 

from  previous  prejudice,  and,  referring  all  things  to 
the  mode  of  the  ancients,  condemn  that  by  com 
parison,  where  no  true  similitude  ought  to  be  ex 
pected. 

But,  in  this  country,  you  need  not  be  told  how 
much  female  education  is  neglected,  nor  how  fash 
ionable  it  has  been  to  ridicule  female  learning ; 
though  I  acknowledge  it  my  happiness  to  be  con 
nected  with  a  person  of  a  more  generous  mind  and 
liberal  sentiments.  I  cannot  forbear  transcribing  a 
few  generous  sentiments  which  I  lately  met  with  up 
on  this  subject. 

"  If  women,"  says  the  writer,  "  are  to  be  esteem 
ed  our  enemies,  methinks  it  is  an  ignoble  cowardice, 
thus  to  disarm  them,  and  not  allow  them  the  same 
weapons  we  use  ourselves  ;  but,  if  they  deserve  the 
title  of  our  friends,  't  is  an  inhuman  tyranny  to  debar 
them  of  the  privileges  of  ingenuous  education,  which 
would  also  render  their  friendship  so  much  the  more 
delightful  to  themselves  and  us.  Nature  is  seldom 
observed  to  be  niggardly  of  her  choicest  gifts  to  the 
sex.  Their  senses  are  generally  as  quick  as  ours  ; 
tJbeir  reason  as  nervous,  their  judgment  as  mature 
and  solid.  To  these  natural  perfections  add  but  the 
advantages  of  acquired  learning,  what  polite  and 
charming  creatures  would  they  prove  ;  whilst  their 
external  beauty  does  the  office  of  a  crystal  to  the 
lamp,  not  shrouding,  but  disclosing,  their  brighter  in 
tellects.  '  Nor  need  we  fear  to  lose  our  empire  over 
them  by  thus  improving  their  native  abilities  ;  since, 
where  there  is  most  learning,  sense,  and  knowledge, 


LETTERS.  129 

there  is  always  observed  to   be  the    most  modesty 
and  rectitude  of  manners."1 


THE  morning  after  I  received  your  very  short  letter, 
I  determined  to  devote  the  day  to  writing  to  my 
friend ;  but  I  had  only  just  breakfasted,  when  I  had 
a  visit  from  Monsieur  Riviere,  an  officer  on  board 
the  Languedoc,  who  speaks  English  well,  the  cap 
tain  of  the  Zara,  arid  six  or  eight  other  officers,  from 
on  board  another  ship.  The  first  gentleman  dined 
with  me,  and  spent  the  day,  so  that  I  had  no  oppor 
tunity  of  writing  that  day.  The  gentlemen  officers 
have  made  me  several  visits,  and  I  have  dined  twice 
on  board,  at  very  elegant  entertainments.  Count 
d'Estaing  has  been  exceedingly  polite  to  me.  Soon 
after  he  arrived  here,  I  received  a  message  from 
him,  requesting  that  I  would  meet  him  at  Colonel 
QuincyX  as  it  was  inconvenient  leaving  his  ship  for 
any  long  time.  I  waited  upon  him,  and  was  very 
politely  received.  Upon  parting,  he  requested  that 


1  This  letter  probably  failed  in  reaching  its  destination.  The 
rough  copy  only  remains,  which  ends  in  an  abrupt  manner,  with 
the  quotation  as  above. 

*  This  is  taken  from  a  rough  draft ;  the  original  letter,  if  it 
was  ever  sent,  was  probably  captured  by  the  enemy  or  sunk. 
It  is  without  date,  but  the  contents  fix  it  in  October,  1776. 
VOL.  I.  9 


130  LETTERS. 

the  family  would  accompany  me  on  board  his  ship 
and  dine  with  him  the  next  Thursday,  with  any 
friends  we  chose  to  bring ;  and  his  barge  should 
come  for  us.  We  went,  according  to  the  invitation, 
and  were  sumptuously  entertained,  with  every  deli 
cacy  that  this  country  produces,  and  the  addition  of 
every  foreign  article  that  could  render  our  feast 
splendid.  Music  and  dancing  for  the  young  folks 
closed  the  day. 

The  temperance  of  these  gentlemen,  the  peacea- 
.ble,  quiet  disposition  both  of  officers  and  men,  joined 
to  many  other  virtues  which  they  have  exhibit 
ed  during  their  continuance  with  us,  are  sufficient 
to  make  Europeans,  and  Americans  too,  blush  at 
their  own  degeneracy  of  manners.  Not  one  officer 
has  been  seen  the  least  disg  ised  with  liquor  since 
their  arrival.  Most  that  I  have  seen,  appear  to  be 
gentlemen  of  family  and  education.  I  have  been 
the  more  desirous  to  take  notice  of  them,  as  I  cannot 
help  saying,  that  th  y  have  been  neglected  in  the 
town  of  Boston.  Generals  Heath  and  Hancock  have 
done  their  part,  but  very  few,  if  any,  private  families 
have  any  acquaintance  with  them.  Perhaps  I  feel 
more  anxious  to  have  them  distinguished,  on  account 
of  the  near  and  dear  connexions  I  have  among  them. 
It  would  gratify  me  much,  if  I  had  it  in  my  power, 
to  entertain  every  officer  in  the  fleet. 

In  the  very  few  lines  I  have  received  from  you, 
not  the  least  mention  is  made,  that  you  have  ever  re 
ceived  a  line  from  me.  I  have  not  been  so  parsimo 
nious  as  my  friend,  —  perhaps  I  am  not  so  prudent ; 


LETTERS.  131 

but  I  cannot  take  my  pen,  with  my  heart  overflow 
ing,  and  not  give  utterance  to  some  of  the  abun 
dance  which  is  in  it.  Could  you,  after  a  thousand 
fears  and  anxieties,  long  expectation,  and  painful 
suspense,  be  satisfied  with  my  telling  you,  that  I  was 
well,'  that  I  wished  you  were  with  me,  that  my 
daughter  sent  her  duty,  that  I  had  ordered  some  arti 
cles  for  you,  which  I  hoped  would  arrive,  &c.  &c.  ? 
By  Heaven,  if  you  could,  you  have  changed  hearts 
with  some  frozen  Laplander,  or  made  a  voyage  to 
a  region  that  has  chilled  every  drop  of  your  blood  ; 
but  I  will  restrain  a  pen  already,  I  fear,  too  rash,  nor 
shall  it  tell  you  how  much  I  have  suffered  from  this 
appearance  of  —  inattention. 

The  articles  sent  by  Captain  Tucker  have  arrived 
safe,  and  will  be  of  great  service  to  me.  Our  mo 
ney  is  very  little  better  than  blank  paper.  It  takes 
forty  dollars  to  purchase  a  barrel  of  cider ;  fifty 
pounds  lawful  for  a  hundred  of  sugar,  and  fifty  dol 
lars  for  a  hundred  of  flour ;  four  dollars  per  day  for 
a  laborer,  and  find  him,  which  will  amount  to  four 
more.  You  will  see,  by  bills  drawn  before  the  date 
of  this,  that  I  had  taken  the  method  which  I  was 
happy  in  finding  you  had  directed  me  to.  I  shall 
draw  for  the  rest  as  I  find  my  situation  requires. 
No  article  that  can  be  named,  foreign  or  domestic, 
but  what  costs  more  than  double  in  hard  money  what 
it  once  sold  for.  In  one  letter  I  have  given  you  an 
account  of  our  local  situation,  and  of  every  thing  I 
thought  you  might  wish  to  know.  Four  or  five  sheets 
of  paper,  written  to  you  by  the  last  mail,  were  de- 


132  LETTERS. 

stroyed  when  the  vessel  was  taken.  Duplicates  are 
my  aversion,  though  I  believe  I  should  set  a  value 
upon  them,  if  I  were  to  receive  them  from  a  certain 
friend  * ;  a  friend  who  never  was  deficient  in  testify 
ing  his  regard  and  affection  to  his 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Sunday  Evening,  27  December,  1778. 
How  lonely  are  my  days  ?  how  solitary  are,  my 
nights  ?  secluded  from  all  society  but  my  two  little 
boys  and  my  domestics.  By  the  mountains  of  snow 
which  surround  me,  I  could  almost  fancy  myself  in 
Greenland.  We  have  had  four  of  the  coldest  days 
I  ever  knew,  and  they  were  followed  by  the  severest 
snow-storm  I  ever  remember.  The  wind,  blowing 
like  a  hurricane  for  fifteen  or  twenty  hours,  rendered 
it  impossible  for  man  or  beast  to  live  abroad,  and  has 
blocked  up  the  roads  so  that  they  are  impassable. 
A  week  ago  I  parted  with  my  daughter,  at  the  request 
of  our  Plymouth  friends,  to  spend  a  month  with  them  ; 
so  that  I  am  solitary  indeed. 

Can  the  best  of  friends  recollect,  that  for  fourteen 
years  past  I  have  not  spent  a  whole  winter  alone. 
Some  part  of  the  dismal  season  has  heretofore  been 

1  It  is  proper  to  remark  here,  that  the  inattention  which 
called  forth  these  complaints  was  only  apparent,  and  caused  by 
the  capture  of  nearly  all  the  vessels  which  brought  letters. 


LETTERS.  133 

mitigated  and  softened  by  the  social  converse  and 
participation  of  the  friend  of  my  youth. 

How  insupportable  the  idea,  that  three  thousand 
miles  and  the  vast  ocean  now  divide  us !  but  divide 
only  our  persons,  for  the  heart  of  my  friend  is  in  the 
bosom  of  his  partner.  More  than  half  a  score  of 
years  has  so  riveted  it  there,  that  the  fabric  which 
contains  it  must  crumble  into  dust  ere  the  particles 
can  be  separated  ;  for 

"  in  one  fate,  our  hearts,  our  fortunes, 
And  our  beings  blend." 

I  cannot  describe  to  you  how  much  I  was  affected 
the  other  day  with  a  Scotch  song,  which  was  sung 
to  me  by  a  young  lady  in  order  to  divert  a  melan 
choly  hour  ;  but  it  had  quite  a  different  effect,  and 
the  native  simplicity  of  it  had  all  the  power  of  a  well- 
wrought  tragedy.  When  I  could  conquer  my  sensi 
bility  I  begged  the  song,  and  Master  Charles  has 
learned  it,  and  consoles  his  mamma  by  singing  it  to 
her.  I  will  enclose  it  to  you.  It  has  beauties  in  it 
to  me,  which  an  indifferent  person  would  not  feel 
perhaps. 

"  His  very  foot  has  music  in  't, 
As  he  comes  up  the  stairs." 

How  oft  has  my  heart  danced  to  the  sound  of  that 

music  ? 

"  And  shall  I  see  his  face  again  ? 
And  shall  I  hear  him  speak  ?  " 


134  LETTERS. 

Gracious  Heaven !  hear  and  answer  my  daily  pe 
tition,  by  banishing  all  my  grief. 

I  am  sometimes  quite  discouraged  from  writing. 
So  many  vessels  are  taken,  that  there  is  little  chance 
of  a  letter's  reaching  your  hands.  That  I  meet  with 
so  few  returns,  is  a  circumstance  that  lies  heavy  at 
my  heart.  If  this  finds  its  way  to  you,  it  will  go  by 
the  Alliance.  By  her  I  have  written  before.  She 
has  not  yet  sailed,  and  I  love  to  amuse  myself  with 
my  pen,  and  pour  out  some  of  the  tender  sentiments 
of  a  heart  overflowing  with  affection,  not  for  the  eye 
of  a  cruel  enemy,  who,  no  doubt,  would  ridicule 
every  humane  and  social  sentiment,  long  ago  grown 
callous  to  the  finer  sensibilities,  but  for  the  sympa 
thetic  heart  that  beats  in  unison  with 

PORTIA'S. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

20  March,  1779. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

YOUR  favor  of  December  9th,  came  to  hand  this 
evening  from  Philadelphia.  By  the  same  post  I  re 
ceived  a  letter  from  Mr.  Lovell,  transcribing  some 
passages  from  one  of  the  same  date  to  him,  and  the 
only  one,  he  says,  which  he  has  received  since  your 
absence,  and  his  pocket  book  proves,  that  he  has 
written  eighteen  different  times  ;  yet  possibly  you 
may  have  received  as  few  from  him.  The  watery 
world  alone  can  boast  of  large  packets  received  ;  —  a 


LETTERS.  135 

discouraging  thought  when  I  take  my  pen.  Yet  I 
will  not  be  discouraged.  I  will  persist  in  writing, 
though  but  one  in  ten  should  reach  you.  I  have 
been  impatient  for  an  opportunity,  none  having  of 
fered  since  January,  when  the  Alliance  sailed,  which, 
my  presaging  mind  assures  me,  will  arrive  safe  in 
France,  and  I  hope  will  return  as  safely. 

Accept  my  thanks  for  the  care  you  take  of  me,  in 
so  kindly  providing  for  me  the  articles  you  mention. 
Should  they  arrive  safe,  they  will  be  a  great  assist 
ance  to  me.  The  safest  way,  you  tell  me,  of  sup 
plying  my  wants,  is  by  drafts  ;  but  I  cannot  get  hard 
money  for  bills.  You  had  as  good  tell  me  to  pro 
cure  diamonds  for  them  ;  and,  when  bills  will  fetch 
but  five  for  one,  hard  money  will  exchange  ten, 
which  I  think  is  very  provoking ;  and  I  must  give  at 
the  rate  of  ten,  and  sometimes  twenty,  for  one,  for 
every  article  I  purchase.  I  blush  whilst  I  give  you 
a  price  current ;  —  all  butcher's  meat  from  a  dollar  to 
eight  shillings  per  pound ;  corn  twenty-five  dollars, 
rye  thirty,  per  bushel ;  flour  fifty  pounds  per  hun 
dred  ;  potatoes  ten  dollars  per  bushel ;  butter  twelve 
shillings  a  pound,  cheese  eight ;  sugar  twelve  shil 
lings  a  pound  ;  molasses  twelve  dollars  per  gallon ; 
labor  six  and  eight  dollars  a  day  ;  a  common  cow, 
from  sixty  to  seventy  pounds ;  and  all  English  goods 
in  proportion.  This  is  our  present  situation.  It  is  a 
risk  to  send  me  any  thing  across  the  water,  I  know  ; 
yet,  if  one  in  three  arrives,  I  should  be  a  gainer.  I 
have  studied,  and  do  study,  every  method  of  economy 
in  my  power  ;  otherwise  a  mint  of  money  would  not 


136  LETTERS. 

support  a  family.  I  could  not  board  our  two  sons  under 
forty  dollars  per  week  apiece  at  a  school.  I  there 
fore  thought  it  most  prudent  to  request  Mr.  Thaxter 
to  look  after  them,  giving  him  his  board  and  the  use 
of  the  office,  which  he  readily  accepted,  and,  having 
passed  the  winter  with  me,  will  continue  through  the 
summer,  as  I  see  no  probability  of  the  times  speedily 
growing  better. 

We  have  had  much  talk  of  peace  through  the 
mediation  of  Spain,  and  great  news  from  Spain,  and 
a  thousand  reports,  as  various  as  the  persons  who 
tell  them  ;  yet  I  believe  slowly,  and  rely  more  upon 
the  information  of  my  friend,  than  on  all  the  whole 
legion  of  stories  which  rise  with  the  sun,  and  set  as 
soon.  Respecting  Georgia,1  other  friends  have  writ 
ten  you.  I  shall  add  nothing  of  my  own,  but  that 
I  believe  it  will  finally  be  a  fortunate  event  to  us. 

Our  vessels  have  been  fortunate  in  making  prizes, 
though  many  were  taken  in  the  fall  of  the  year.  We 
have  been  greatly  distressed  for  [want  of]  grain.  I 
scarcely  know  the  looks  or  taste  of  biscuit  or  flour 
for  this  four  months ;  yet  thousands  have  been  much 
worse  off,  having  no  grain  of  any  sort. 

The  great  commotion  raised  here  by  Mr.  Deane 
has  sunk  into  contempt  for  his  character  ;  and  it 
would  be  better  for  him  to  leave  a  country,  which  is 
now  supposed  to  have  been  injured  by  him.  His 
friends  are  silent,  not  knowing  how  to  extricate  him. 

1  The  descent  of  the  British,  under  General  Prevost  and 
Colonel  Campbell,  upon  Georgia. 


LETTERS.  137 

It  would  be  happy  for  him,  if  he  had  the  art  himself. 
He  most  certainly  had  art  enough,  in  the  beginning, 
to  blow  up  a  flame,  and  to  set  the  whole  continent  in 
agitation. 

23  April. 

More  than  a  month  has  passed  away  since  writing 
the  above,  and  no  opportunity  has  yet  offered  of  con 
veying  you  a  line  ;  next  to  the  pain  of  not  receiving, 
is  that  of  not  being  able  to  send  a  token  of  remem 
brance  and  affection.  (You  must  excuse  my  not  copy 
ing,  as  paper  is  ten  dollars  per  quire.)  Last  week  a 
packet  arrived  from  Brest,  with  despatches  for  Con 
gress,  but  no  private  letters.  I  was  disappointed,  but 
did  not  complain.  You  would  have  written,  I  know, 
had  you  supposed  she  was  coming  to  Boston.  By 
her  we  heard  of  the  safe  arrival  of  the  Alliance  in 
France,  which  gave  me  much  pleasure.  May  she 
have  as  safe  a  return  to  us  again.  Last  week,  ar 
rived  here  the  frigate  Warren,  after  a  successful 
cruise.  She  had  been  out  about  six  weeks,  in  com 
pany  with  the  Queen  of  France,  and  the  Ranger, 
Captain  Jones.  They  fell  in  with,  and  captured,  a 
fleet,  bound  from  New  York  to  Georgia,  consisting 
of  ship  Jason,  twenty  guns,  and  one  hundred  and 
fifty  men ;  ship  Maria,  sixteen  guns,  eighty-four 
men,  having  on  board  eighteen  hundred  barrels  of 
flour  ;  privateer  schooner  Hibernian,  eight  guns, 
and  forty-five  men  ;  brigs  Patriot,  Prince  Frederick, 
Bachelor  John,  and  schooner  Chance  ;  all  of  which 
are  safe  arrived,  to  the  universal  joy  and  satisfaction 


138  LETTERS. 

of  every  well-wisher  of  his  country.  The  officers 
who  were  captured,  acknowledge  that  this  loss  will 
be  severely  felt  by  the  enemy,  and  it  is  hoped  that 
it  will  give  General  Lincoln  important  advantages 
over  him  in  Georgia. 

Respecting  domestic  affairs,  I  shall  do  tolerably, 
whilst  my  credit  is  well  supported  abroad  ;  and  my 
demands  there  shall  be  as  small  as  possible,  consid 
ering  the  state  of  things  here  ;  but  I  cannot  purchase 
a  bushel  of  grain  under  three  hard  dollars,  though 
the  scarcity  of  that  article  makes  it  dearer  than  other 
things. 

My  pen  is  really  so  bad  that  I  cannot  add  any  fur 
ther,  than  that  I  am  wholly 

Yours. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

8  June,  1779. 

MY  DEAREST    FRIEND, 

Six  months  have  already  elapsed  since  I  heard  a 
syllable  from  you  or  my  dear  son,  and  five,  since  I 
have  had  one  single  opportunity  of  conveying  a  line  to 
you.  Letters  of  various  dates  have  lain  months  at 
the  Navy  Board,  and  a  packet  and  frigate,  both  ready 
to  sail  at  an  hour's  warning,  have  been  months  wait 
ing  the  orders  of  Congress.  They  no  doubt  have 
their  reasons,  or  ought  to  have,  for  detaining  them. 
I  must  patiently  wait  their  motions,  however  pain- 


LETTERS.  139 

ful  it  is ;  and  that  it  is  so,  your  own  feelings  will 
testify.  Yet  I  know  not  but  you  are  less  a  sufferer 
than  you  would  be  to  hear  from  us,  to  know  our  dis 
tresses,  and  yet  be  unable  to  relieve  them.  The 
universal  cry  for  bread,  to  a  humane  heart,  is  painful 
beyond  description,  and  the  great  price  demanded 
and  given  for  it  verifies  that  pathetic  passage  of  sa 
cred  writ,  "  All  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his 
life."  Yet  He  who  miraculously  fed  a  multitude 
with  five  loaves  and  two  fishes,  has  graciously  inter 
posed  in  our  favor,  and  delivered  many  of  the  ene 
my's  supplies  into  our  hands,  so  that  our  distresses 
have  been  mitigated.  I  have  been  able  as  yet  to 
supply  my  own  family,  sparingly,  but  at  a  price  that 
would  astonish  you.  Corn  is  sold  at  four  dollars, 
hard  money,  per  bushel,  which  is  equal  to  eighty  at 
the  rate  of  exchange. 

Labor  is  at  eight  dollars  per  day,  and  in  three 
weeks  it  will  be  at  twelve,  't  is  probable,  or  it  will  be 
more  stable  than  any  thing  else.  Goods  of  all  kinds 
are  at  such  a  price  that  I  hardly  dare  mention  it. 
Linens  are  sold  at  twenty  dollars  per  yard  ;  the  most 
ordinary  sort  of  calicoes  at  thirty  and  forty  ;  broad 
cloths  at  forty  pounds  per  yard  ;  West  India  goods  full 
as  high  ;  molasses  at  twenty  dollars  per  gallon  ;  sugar 
four  dollars  per  pound  ;  bohea  tea  at  forty  dollars  ; 
and  our  own  produce  in  proportion.  Butcher's  meat 
at  six  and  eight  shillings  per  pound  ;  board  at  fifty 
and  sixty  dollars  per  week  ;  rates  high.  That,  I  sup 
pose  you  will  rejoice  at ;  so  would  I,  did  it  remedy 
the  evil.  I  pay  five  hundred  dollars,  and  a  new 


140  LETTERS. 

continental  rate  has  just  appeared,  my  proportion  of 
which  will  be  two  hundred  more.  I  have  come  to 
this  determination,  to  sell  no  more  bills,  unless  I  can 
procure  hard  money  for  them,  although  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  allow  a  discount.  If  I  sell  for  paper,  I 
throw  away  more  than  half,  so  rapid  is  the  depre 
ciation  ;  nor  do  I  know  that  it  will  be  received  long. 
I  sold  a  bill  to  Blodget  at  five  for  one,  which  was 
looked  upon  as  high  at  that  time.  The  week  after  I 
received  it,  two  emissions  were  taken  out  of  circula 
tion,  and  the  greater  part  of  what  I  had,  proved  to  be 
of  that  sort ;  so  that  those,  to  whom  I  was  indebted, 
are  obliged  to  wait,  and  before  it  becomes  due,  or  is 
exchanged,  it  will  be  good  for — as  much  as  it  will 
fetch,  which  will  be  nothing,  if  it  goes  on  as  it  has 
done  for  this  three  months  past.  I  will  not  tire  your 
patience  any  longer.  I  have  not  drawn  any  further 
upon  you.  I  mean  to  wait  the  return  of  the  Alli 
ance,  which  with  longing  eyes  I  look  for.  God  grant 
it  may  bring  me  comfortable  tidings  from  my  dear, 
dear  friend,  whose  welfare  is  so  essential  to  my  hap 
piness,  that  it  is  entwined  around  my  heart,  and  can 
not  be  impaired  or  separated  from  it  without  rending 
it  asunder. 

In  contemplation  of  my  situation,  I  am  sometimes 
thrown  into  an  agony  of  distress.  Distance,  dangers, 
and  O !  I  cannot  name  all  the  fears  which  sometimes 
oppress  me,  and  harrow  up  my  soul.  Yet  must  the 
common  lot  of  man  one  day  take  place,  whether  we 
dwell  in  our  own  native  land,  or  are  far,  distant  from 
it.  That  we  rest  under  the  shadow  of  the  Almighty 


LETTERS.  141 

is  the  consolation  to  which  I  resort,  and  find  that 
comfort  which  the  world  cannot  give.  If  He  sees 
best  to  give  me  back  my  friend,  or  to  preserve  my 
life  to  him,  it  will  be  so. 

Our  worthy  friend,  Dr.  Winthrop,  is  numbered 
with  the  great  congregation,  to  the  inexpressible  loss 
of  Harvard  College. 

"  Let  no  weak  drop 

Be  shed  for  him.     The  virgin,  in  her  bloom 
Cut  off,  the  joyous  youth,  and  darling  child, 
These  are  the  tombs  that  claim  the  tender  tear, 
And  elegiac  song.     But  Winthrop  calls 
For  other  notes  of  gratulation  high, 
That  now  he  wanders  through  those  endless  worlds 
He  here  so  well  descried,  and  wondering  talks, 
And  hymns  their  Author  with  his  glad  compeers." 

The  testimony  he  gave  with  his  dying  breath,  in 
favor  of  revealed  religion,  does  honor  to  his  memory, 
and  will  endear  it  to  every  lover  of  virtue.  I  know 
not  who  will  be  found  worthy  to  succeed  him. 

Congress  have  not  yet  made  any  appointment  of 
you  to  any  other  court.  There  appears  a  dilatori- 
ness,  an  indecision,  in  their  proceedings.  I  have  in 
Mr.  Lovell  an  attentive  friend,  who  kindly  informs  me 
of  every  thing  which  passes  relative  to  you  and  your 
situation,  and  gives  me  extracts  of  your  letters  both 
to  himself  and  others.  I  know  you  will  be  unhappy 
whenever  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  serve  your  coun 
try,  and  wish  yourself  at  home,  where  at  least  you 
might  serve  ^our  family.  I  cannot  say  that  I  think 
our  affairs  go  very  well  here.  Our  currency  seems 


142  LETTERS. 

to  be  the  source  of  all  our  evils.  We  cannot  fill  up 
our  Continental  army  by  means  of  it.  No  bounty 
will  prevail  with  them.  What  can  be  done  with  it  ? 
It  will  sink  in  less  than  a  year.  The  advantage  the 
enemy  daily  gains  over  us  is  owing  to  this.  Most 
truly  did  you  prophesy,  when  you  said  that  they 
would  do  all  the  mischief  in  their  power  with  the 
forces  they  had  here. 

My  tenderest  regards  ever  attend  you  in  all  places 
and  situations.  «. 

Ever,  ever  yours. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 


DEAREST    OF    FRIENDS, 

MY  habitation,  how  disconsolate  it  looks !  my  table,  I 
sit  down  to  it,  but  cannot  swallow  my  food  !  O,  why 
was  I  born  with  so  much  sensibility,  and  why,  pos 
sessing  it,  have  I  so  often  been  called  to  struggle 
with  it  ?  I  wish  to  see  you  again.  Were  I  sure  you 
would  not  be  gone,  I  could  not  withstand  the  tempta 
tion  of  coming  to  town,  though  my  heart  would  suffer 
over  again  the  cruel  torture  of  separation. 

1  Mr.  Adams  had  returned  from  France  in  August,  but  was 
required  by  Congress  again  to  embark  at  this  time,  with  pow 
ers  to  negotiate  a  peace  with  Great  Britain.  He  took  with 
him,  upon  this  occasion^  his  two  eldest  sons. 


LETTERS.  143 

What  a  cordial  to  my  dejected  spirits  were  the 
few  lines  last  night  received  !  And  does  your  heart 
forebode  that  we  shall  again  be  happy  ?  My  hopes 
and  fears  rise  alternately.  I  cannot  resign  more 
than  I  do,  unless  life  itself  were  called  for.  My  dear 
sons,  I  cannot  think  of  them  without  a  tear.  Little 
do  they  know  the  feelings  of  a  mother's  heart.  May 
they  be  good  and  useful  as  their  father !  Then  will 
they,  in  some  measure,  reward  the  anxiety  of  a 
mother.  My  tcnderest  love  to  them.  Remember  me 
also  to  Mr.  Thaxter,  whose  civilities  and  kindness  I 
shall  miss. 

God  Almighty  bless  and  protect  my  dearest  friend, 
and  in  his  own  time,  restore  him  to  the  affectionate 

bosom  of 

PORTIA. 
14  November,  1779. 


TO  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 

12  January,  1780. 

MY    DEAR    SON, 

I  HOPE  you  have  had  no  occasion,  either  from  ene 
mies  or  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  to  repent  your  second 
voyage  to  France.  If  I  had  thought  your  reluctance 
arose  from  proper  deliberation,  or  that  you  were  ca 
pable  of  judging  what  was  most  for  your  own  bene 
fit,  I  should  not  have  urged  you  to  accompany  your 
father  and  brother  when  you  appeared  so  averse  to 
the  voyage. 


144  LETTERS. 

You,  however,  readily  submitted  to  my  advice, 
and,  I  hope,  will  never  have  occasion  yourself,  nor 
give  me  reason,  to  lament  it.  Your  knowledge  of 
the  language  must  give  you  greater  advantages  now 
than  you  could  possibly  have  reaped  whilst  ignorant 
of  it ;  and  as  you  increase  in  years,  you  will  find 
your  understanding  opening  and  daily  improving. 

Some  author,  that  I  have  met  with,  compares  a 
judicious  traveller  to  a  river,  that  increases  its  stream 
the  further  it  flows  from  its  source  ;  or  to  certain 
springs,  which,  running  through  rich  veins  of  miner 
als,  improve  their  qualities  as  they  pass  along.  It 
will  be  expected  of  you,  my  son,  that,  as  you  are 
favored  with  superior  advantages  under  the  instruc 
tive  eye  of  a  tender  parent,  your  improvement  should 
bear  some  proportion  to  your  advantages.  Nothing 
is  wanting  with  you  but  attention,  diligence,  and 
steady  application.  Nature  has  not  been  deficient. 

These  are  times  in  which  a  genius  would  wish  to 
live.  It  is  not  in  the  still  calm  of  life,  or  the  repose 
of  a  pacific  station,  that  great  characters  are  formed. 
Would  Cicero  have  shone  so  distinguished  an  orator 
if  he  had  not  been  roused,  kindled,  and  inflamed  by 
the  tyranny  of  Catiline,  Verres,  and  Mark  Anthony  ? 
The  habits  of  a  vigorous  mind  are  formed  in  con 
tending  with  difficulties.  All  history  will  convince 
you  of  this,  and  that  wisdom  and  penetration  are  the 
fruit  of  experience,  not  the  lessons  of  retirement  and 
leisure.  Great  necessities  call  out  great  virtues. 
When  a  mind  is  raised  and  animated  by  scenes  that 
engage  the  heart,  then  those  qualities,  which  would 


LETTERS.  145 

otherwise  lie  dormant,  wake  into  life  and  form  the 
character  of  the  hero  and  the  statesman.  War,  tyran 
ny,  and  desolation  are  the  scourges  of  the  Almighty, 
and  ought  no  doubt  to  be  deprecated.  Yet  it  is  your 
lot,  my  son,  to  be  an  eyewitness  of  these  calamities 
in  your  own  native  land,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to 
owe  your  existence  among  a  people  who  have  made 
a  glorious  defence  of  their  invaded  liberties,  and 
who,  aided  by  a  generous  and  powerful  ally,  with 
the  blessing  of  Heaven,  will  transmit  this  inheritance 
to  ages  yet  unborn. 

Nor  ought  it  to  be  one  of  the  least  of  your  incite 
ments  towards  exerting  every  power  and  faculty  of 
your  mind,  that  you  have  a  parent  who  has  taken  so 
large  and  active  a  share  in  this  contest,  and  dis 
charged  the  trust  reposed  in  him  with  so  much  satis 
faction  as  to  be  honored  with  the  important  embassy 
which  at  present  calls  him  abroad. 

The  strict  and  inviolable  regard  you  have  ever  paid 
to  truth,  gives  me  pleasing  hopes  that  you  will  not 
swerve  from  her  dictates,  but  add  justice,  fortitude, 
and  every  manly  virtue  which  can  adorn  a  good 
citizen,  do  honor  to  your  country,  and  render  your 
parents  supremely  happy,  particularly  your  ever 
affectionate  mother, 

A.  A. 


VOL.    I.  10 


146  LETTERS. 


TO    JOHN    QUINGY   ADAMS. 

20  March,  17£ 


MY   DEAR    SON, 


YOUR  letter,  last  evening  received  from  Bilboa,  re 
lieved  me  from  much  anxiety ;  for,  having  a  day  or 
two  before  received  letters  from  your  papa,  Mr. 
Thaxter,1  and  brother^  in  which  packet  I  found  none 
from  you,  nor  any  mention  made  of  you,  my  mind, 
ever  fruitful  in  conjectures,  was  instantly  alarmed. 
I  feared  you  were  sick,  unable  to  write,  and  your 
papa,  unwilling  to  give  me  uneasiness,  had  conceal 
ed  it  from  me  ;  and  this  apprehension  was  confirmed 
by  every  person's  omitting  to  say  how  long  they 
should  continue  in  Bilboa. 

Your  father's  letters  came  to  Salem,  yours  to 
Newburyport,  and  soon  gave  ease  to  my  anxiety,  at 
the  same  time  that  it  excited  gratitude  and  thankful 
ness  to  Heaven,  for  the  preservation  you  all  experi 
enced  in  the  imminent  dangers  which  threatened 
you.  You  express  in  both  your  letters  a  degree  of 
thankfulness.  I  hope  it  amounts  to  more  than  words, 
and  that  you  will  never  be  insensible  to  the  particu 
lar  preservation  you  have  experienced  in  both  your 
voyages.  You  have  seen  how  inadequate  the  aid  of 
man  would  have  been,  if  the  winds  and  the  seas  had 

1  This  gentleman,  who  was  a  student  at  law  in  the  office  of 
Mr.  Adams,  at  the  commencement  of  the  troubles,  accompan 
ied  him  in  the  capacity  of  private  secretary  on  this  mission. 


LETTERS.  147 

not  been  under  the  particular  government  of  that 
Being,  who  "  stretched  out  the  heavens  as  a  span," 
who  "  holdeth  the  ocean  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand," 
and  "  rideth  upon  the  wings  of  the  wind." 

If  you  have  a  due  sense  of  your  preservation,  your 
next  consideration  will  be,  for  what  purpose  you  are 
continued  in  life.  It  is  not  to  rove  from  clime  to 
clime,  to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity  ;  but  every  new 
mercy  you  receive  is  a  new  debt  upon  you,  a  new 
obligation  to  a  diligent  discharge  of  the  various  rela 
tions  in  which  you  stand  connected  ;  in  the  first  place, 
to  your  great  Preserver  ;  in  the  next,  to  society  in 
general  ;  in  particular,  to  your  country,  to  your 
parents,  and  to  yourself. 

The  only  sure  and  permanent  foundation  of  virtue 
is  religion.  Let  this  important  truth  be  engraven 
upon  your  heart.  And  also,  that  the  foundation 
of  religion  is  the  belief  of  the  one  only  God,  and 
a  just  sense  of  his  attributes,  as  a  being  infinitely 
wise,  just,  and  good,  to  whom  you  owe  the  highest 
reverence,  gratitude,  and  adoration  ;  who  superin 
tends  and  governs  all  nature,  even  to  clothing  the 
lilies  of  the  field,  and  hearing  the  young  ravens  when 
they  cry  ;  but  more  particularly  regards  man,  whom 
he  created  after  his  own  image,  and  breathed  into 
him  an  immortal  spirit,  capable  of  a  happiness  be 
yond  the  grave ;  for  the  attainment  of  which  he  is 
bound  to  the  performance  of  certain  duties,  which  all 
tend  to  the  happiness  and  welfare  of  society,  and  are 
comprised  in  one  short  sentence,  expressive  of  uni 
versal  benevolence,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 


148  LETTERS. 

as  thyself."     This  is  elegantly  defined  by  Mr.  Pope, 
in  his  "  Essay  on  Man." 

"  Remember,  man,  the  universal  cause 
Acts  not  by  partial,  but  by  general  laws, 
And  makes  what  happiness  we  justly  call, 
Subsist  not  in  the  good  of  one,  but  all. 
There  's  not  a  blessing  individuals  find, 
But  some  way  leans  and  hearkens  to  the  kind.'' 

Thus  has  the  Supreme  Being  made  the  good  will 
of  man  towards  his  fellow-creatures  an  evidence  of 
his  regard  to  Him,  and  for  this  purpose  has  constitut 
ed  him  a  dependent  being  and  made  his  happiness 
to  consist  in  society.  Man  early  discovered  this  pro 
pensity  of  his  nature,  and  found 

"  Eden  was  tasteless  till  an  Eve  was  there." 

Justice,  humanity,  and  benevolence  are  the  duties 
you  owe  to  society  in  general.  To  your  country 
the  same  duties  are  incumbent  upon  you,  with  the 
additional  obligation  of  sacrificing  ease,  pleasure, 
wealth,  and  life  itself  for  its  defence  and  security. 
To  your  parents  you  owe  love,  reverence,  and  obe 
dience  to  all  just  and  equitable  commands.  To  your 
self, —  here,  indeed,  is  a  wide  field  to  expatiate  upon. 
To  become  what  you  ought  to  be,  and  what  a  fond 
mother  wishes  to  see  you,  attend  to  some  precepts 
and  instructions  from  the  pen  of  one,  who  can  have 
no  motive  but  your  welfare  and  happiness,  and  who 
wishes  in  this  way  to  supply  to  you  the  personal 
watchfulness  and  care,  which  a  separation  from  you 
deprived  you  of  at  a  period  of  life,  when  habits  are 


LETTERS.  149 

easiest  acquired  and  fixed  ;  and,  though  the  advice 
may  not  be  new,  yet  suffer  it  to  obtain  a  place  in  your 
memory,  for  occasions  may  offer,  and  perhaps  some 
concurring  circumstances  unite,  to  give  it  weight  and 
force. 

Suffer  me  to  recommend  to  you  one  of  the  most 
useful  lessons  of  life,  the  knowledge  and  study  of 
yourself.  There  you  run  the  greatest  hazard  of 
being  deceived.  Self-love  and  partiality  cast  a  mist 
before  the  eyes,  and  there  is  no  knowledge  so  hard 
to  be  acquired,  nor  of  more  benefit  when  once 
thoroughly  understood.  Ungoverned  passions  have 
aptly  been  compared  to  the  boisterous  ocean,  which 
is  known  to  produce  the  most  terrible  effects.  "  Pas 
sions  are  the  elements  of  life,"  but  elements  which 
are  subject  to  the  control  of  reason.  Whoever  will 
candidly  examine  themselves,  will  find  some  degree 
of  passion,  peevishness,  or  obstinacy  in  their  natural 
tempers.  You  will  seldom  find  these  disagreeable 
ingredients  all  united  in  one  ;  but  the  uncontrolled  in 
dulgence  of  either  is  sufficient  to  render  the  posses 
sor  unhappy  in  himself,  and  disagreeable  to  all  who 
are  so  unhappy  as  to  be  witnesses  of  it,  or  suffer 
from  its  effects. 

You,  my  dear  son,  are  formed  with  a  constitution 
feelingly  alive  ;  your  passions  are  strong  and  impetu 
ous  ;  and,  though  I  have  sometimes  seen  them  hurry 
you  into  excesses,  yet  with  pleasure  I  have  ob 
served  a  frankness  and  generosity  accompany  your 
efforts  to  govern  and  subdue  them.  Few  persons 
are  so  subject  to  passion,  but  that  they  can  com- 


150  LETTERS. 

mand  themselves,  when  they  have  a  motive  suffi 
ciently  strong ;  and  those  who  are  most  apt  to  trans 
gress  will  restrain  themselves  through  respect  and 
reverence  to  superiors,  and  even,  where  they  wish 
to  recommend  themselves,  to  their  equals.  The  due 
government  of  the  passions,  has  been  considered  in 
all  ages  as  a  most  valuable  acquisition.  Hence  an 
inspired  writer  observes,  "  He  that  is  slow  to  anger, 
is  better  than  the  mighty  ;  and  he  that  ruleth  his 
spirit,  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  This  passion, 
cooperating  with  power,  and  unrestrained  by  reason, 
has  produced  the  subversion  of  cities,  the  desola 
tion  of  countries,  the  massacre  of  nations,  and  filled 
the  world  with  injustice  and  oppression.  Behold 
your  own  country,  your  native  land,  suffering  from 
the  effects  of  lawless  power  and  malignant  passions, 
and  learn  betimes,  from  your  own  observation  and 
experience,  to  govern  and  control  yourself.  Having 
once  obtained  this  self-government,  you  will  find  a 
foundation  laid  for  happiness  to  yourself  and  use 
fulness  to  mankind.  "  Virtue  alone  is  happiness 
below ;"  and  consists  in  cultivating  and  improving 
every  good  inclination,  and  in  checking  and  sub 
duing  every  propensity  to  evil.  I  have  been  particu 
lar  upon  the  passion  of  anger,  as  it  is  generally  the 
most  predominant  passion  at  your  age,  the  soonest 
excited,  and  the  least  pains  are  taken  to  subdue  it ; 

—  "  what  composes  man,  can  man  destroy." 

I  do  not  mean,  however,  to  have  you  insensible  to 
real   injuries.      He  who  will  not  turn  when  he   is 


LETTERS.  151 

trodden  upon  is  deficient  in  point  of  spirit ;  yet,  if 
you  can  preserve  good  breeding  and  decency  of 
manners,  you  will  have  an  advantage  over  the  ag 
gressor,  and  will  maintain  a  dignity  of  character, 
which  will  always  insure  you  respect,  even  from  the 
offender. 

I  will  not  overburden  your  mind  at  this  time.  I 
mean  to  pursue  the  subject  of  self-knowledge  in 
some  future  letter,  and  give  you  my  sentiments 
upon  your  future  conduct  in  life,  when  I  feel  dis 
posed  to  resume  my  pen. 

In  the  mean  time,  be  assured,  no  one  is  more 
sincerely  interested  in  your  happiness,  than  your 
ever  affectionate  mother, 

A.  A. 

Do  not  expose  my  letters.  I  would  copy,  but 
hate  it. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

Sunday  Evening,  16  July,  1780. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

I  HAD  just  returned  to  my  chamber,  and  taken  up  my 
pen  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  arrival  of  the  fleet 
of  our  allies  at  Newport,  when  I  was  called  down  to 
receive  the  most  agreeable  of  presents,  —  letters 


152  LETTERS. 

from  my  dearest  friend.  One  bearing  date  March 
28th,  by  Mr.  Izard,  and  one  of  May  3d,  taken  out  of 
the  post-office  ;  but  to  what  port  they  arrived  first  I 
know  not.  They  could  not  be  those  by  the  fleet,  as 
in  these  you  make  mention  of  letters,  which  I  have 
not  yet  received,  nor  by  the  Alliance,  since  Mr. 
Williams  sailed  twenty-five  days  after  the  fleet,  and 
she  was  then  in  France.  A  pity,  I  think,  that  she 
should  stay  there  when  here  we  are  almost  destitute. 
Our  navy  has  been  unfortunate  indeed.  I  am  sorry 
to  find,  that  only  a  few  lines  have  reached  you  from 
me.  I  have  written  by  way  of  Spain,  Holland,  and 
Sweden,  but  not  one  single  direct  conveyance  have 
I  had  to  France  since  you  left  me.  I  determine  to 
open  a  communication  by  way  of  Gardoqui,  and  wish 
you  would  make  use  of  the  same  conveyance. 

What  shall  I  say  of  our  political  affairs  ?  Shall  I 
exclaim  at  measures  now  impossible  to  remedy  ? 
No.  I  will  hope  all  from  the  generous  aid  of  our 
allies,  in  concert  with  our  own  exertions.  I  am  not 
suddenly  elated  or  depressed.  I  know  America  ca 
pable  of  any  thing  she  undertakes  with  spirit  and 
vigor.  "  Brave  in  distress,  serene  in  conquest,  drow 
sy  when  at  rest,"  is  her  true  characteristic.  Yet  I 
deprecate  a  failure  in  our  present  effort.  The  efforts 
are  great,  and  we  give,  this  campaign,  more  than  half 
our  property  to  defend  the  other.  He  who  tarries 
from  the  field  cannot  possibly  earn  sufficient  at  home 
to  reward  him  who  takes  it.  Yet,  should  Heaven 
bless  our  endeavours,  and  crown  this  year  with  the 
blessings  of  peace,  no  exertion  will  be  thought  too 


LETTERS.  153 

great,  no  price  of  property  too  dear.  My  whole  soul 
is  absorbed  in  the  idea-  The  honor  of  my  dear 
est  friend,  the  welfare  and  happiness  of  this  wide- 
extended  country,  ages  yet  unborn,  depend  for  their 
happiness  and  security  upon  the  able  and  skilful,  the 
honest  and  upright,  discharge  of  the  important  trust 
committed  to  him.  It  would  not  become  me  to  write 
the  full  flow  of  my  heart  upon  this  occasion.  My 
constant  petition  for  him  is,  that  he  may  so  discharge 
the  trust  reposed  in  him  as  to  merit  the  approving 
eye  of  Heaven,  and  peace,  liberty,  and  safety  crown 
his  latest  years  in  his  own  native  land. 

The  Marchioness,1  at  the  Abbe  Raynal's,  is  not  the 
only  lady  who  joins  an  approving  voice  to  that  of 
her  country,  though  at  the  expense  of  her  present 
domestic  happiness.  It  is  easier  to  admire  virtue 
than  to  practise  it ;  especially  the  great  virtue  of 
self-denial.  I  find  but  few  sympathizing  souls.  Why 
should  I  look  for  them  ?  since  few  have  any  souls, 
but  of  the  sensitive  kind.  That  nearest  allied  to  my 
own  they  have  taken  from  me,  and  tell  me  honor 
and  fame  are  a  compensation. 

"  Fame,  wealth,  or  honor,  —  what  are  ye  to  love  ?  " 

But  hushed  be  my  pen.  Let  me  cast  my  eye  upon 
the  letters  before  me.  What  is  the  example?  I 
follow  it  in  silence. 

Present  my  compliments  to  Mr.  Dana.2     Tell  him 

1  Doubtless  the  Marchioness  Lafayette. 

2  Francis  Dana  was  appointed  by  Congress  secretary  to  Mr. 


154  LETTERS. 

I  have  called  upon  his  lady,  and  we  enjoyed  an  after 
noon  of  sweet  communion.  I  find  she  would  not  he 
averse  to  taking  a  voyage,  should  he  be  continued 
abroad.  She  groans  most  bitterly,  and  is  irreconcila 
ble  to  his  absence.  I  am  a  mere  philosopher  to  her. 
I  am  inured,  but  not  hardened,  to  the  painful  portion. 
Shall  I  live  to  see  it  otherwise  ? 

Your  letters  are  always  valuable  to  me,  but  more 
particularly  so  when  they  close  with  an  affectionate 
assurance  of  regard,  which,  though  I  do  not  doubt, 
is  never  repeated  without  exciting  the  tenderest  sen 
timents  ;  and  never  omitted  without  pain  to  the  affec 
tionate  bosom  of  your 

PORTIA. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

15  October,  1780. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

I  CLOSED  a  long  letter  to  you  only  two  days  ago,  but 
as  no  opportunity  is  omitted  by  me,  I  embrace  this, 
as  Colonel  Fleury  was  kind  enough  to  write  me  on 
purpose,  from  Newport,  to  inform  me  of  it,  and  to 
promise  a  careful  attention  to  it.  Yet  I  feel  doubt 
ful  of  its  safety.  The  enemy  seems  to  be  collect- 
Adams  upon  this  mission,  and  accompanied  him  in  his  voyage. 
He  was  afterwards  sent  to  Russia  as  Minister ;  upon  which 
occasion  Mr.  Adams's  eldest  son  went  with  him  to  St,  Peters- 
burgh. 


LETTERS.  155 

ing  a  prodigious  force  into  these  seas,  and  is  bent 
upon  the  destruction  of  oar  allies.  We  are  not  a 
little  anxious  for  them,  and  cannot  but  wonder,  that 
they  are  not  yet  reinforced.  Graves's  fleet,  Arbuth- 
not's,  and  Rodney's,  all  here  ;  with  such  a  superiority, 
can  it  be  matter  of  surprise,  if  M.  de  Ternay  should 
fall  a  sacrifice  ?  My  own  mind,  I  own,  is  full  of 
apprehension ;  yet  I  trust  we  shall  not  be  delivered 
over  to  the  vengeance  of  a  nation  more  wicked  and 
perverse  than  our  own.  We  daily  experience  the 
correcting  and  the  defending  arm.  The  enclosed 
papers  will  give  you  the  particulars  of  an  infernal 
plot,  and  the  providential  discovery  of  it.  For,  how 
ever  the  belief  of  a  particular  Providence  may  be  ex 
ploded  by  the  modern  wits,  and  the  infidelity  of  too 
many  of  the  rising  generation  deride  the  idea,  yet  the 
virtuous  mind  will  look  up  and  acknowledge  the  great 
First  Cause,  without  whose  notice  not  even  a  sparrow 
falls  to  the  ground. 

I  am  anxious  to  hear  from  you.  Your  last  letter, 
which  I  have  received,  was  dated  June  the  17th.  I 
have  written  you  repeatedly,  that  my  trunk  was  not 
put  on  board  the  Alliance  ;  that  poor  vessel  was  the 
sport  of  more  than  winds  and  waves.  The  conduct 
with  regard  to  her  is  considered  as  very  extraordinaiy. 
She  came  to  Boston,  as  you  have  no  doubt  heard. 
Landais  is  suspended.  The  man  must  be  new  made 
before  he  can  be  entitled  to  command.  I  hope  Captain 
Sampson  arrived  safe.  He  carried  the  resolve  of 
Congress,  which  you  wanted. 

You  tell  me  to  send  you  prices  current.     I  will 


156  LETTERS. 

aim  at  it.     Corn,  is  now  thirty  pounds,  rye  twenty- 
seven,  per  bushel.     Flour  from  a  hundred  and  forty 
to  a  hundred  and  thirty  per  hundred.     Beef,  eight 
dollars  per  pound  ;  mutton,  nine  ;  lamb,  six,  seven, 
and  eight.     Butter  twelve  dollars  per  pound  ;  cheese, 
ten.     Sheep's  wool  thirty  dollars  per  pound ;    flax, 
twenty.     West  India  articles ;  —  sugar,  from  a  hun 
dred  and  seventy  to  two  hundred  pounds  per  hundred  ; 
molasses,  forty-eight  dollars   per  gallon  ;  tea,   nine 
ty  ;  coffee,  twelve ;    cotton  wool,   thirty   per  pound. 
Exchange  from  seventy  to  seventy-five  for  hard  mo 
ney.    Bills  at  fifty.    Money  scarce  ;  plenty  of  goods  ; 
enormous  taxes.     Our  State  affairs  are  thus.     Han 
cock  will  be  Governor,  by  a  very  great  majority  ;  the 
Senate  will  have  to  choose  the  Lieutenant-Governor. 
X3ur  constitution  is  read  with  great  admiration  in  New 
/  York,  and  pronounced  by  the  Royal  Governor  the 
"best  republican  form  he  ever  saw,   but  with  sincere 
hopes  that  it  might  not  be  accepted.     How  will  it  be 
administered  ?  is  now  the  important  question. 

The  report  of  the  day  is,  that  three  thousand  troops 
are  arrived  at  New  York  from  England. 

Adieu  !     Most  affectionately  yours. 


LETTERS.  157 

TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

28  January,  1781. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

LAST  evening  General  Lincoln  called  here,  introduc 
ing  to  me  a  gentleman,  by  the  name  of  Colonel  Lau- 
rens,  the  son,  as  I  suppose,  of  your  much  esteemed 
friend,  the  late  President  of  Congress  ;  who  informed 
me,  that  he  expected  to  sail  for  France  in  a  few 
days,  and  would  take  despatches  from  me.  Although 
I  closed  letters  to  you,  by  way  of  Holland,  a  few 
days  ago,  I  would  not  omit  so  good  an  opportunity 
as  the  present.  'T  is  a  long  time  since  the  date  of 
your  last  letters,  the  25th  of  September.  I  wait  writh 
much  anxiety,  listening  to  the  sound  of  every  gun, 
but  none  announce  the  arrival  of  the  Fame,  from 
Holland,  which  we  greatly  fear  is  taken  or  lost,  or 
the  Mars,  from  France.  Colonel  Laurens  is  ena 
bled,  I  suppose,  to  give  you  every  kind  of  intelli 
gence  respecting  the  army,  which  you  may  wish  to 
learn. 

I  have  the  pleasure  to  inform  you,  that  a  repeal  of 
the  obnoxious  tender  act  has  passed  the  House  and 
Senate.  The  Governor,  as  has  been  heretofore  pre 
dicted,  when  any  thing  not  quite  popular  is  in  agita 
tion,  has  the  gout,  and  is  confined  to  his  bed.  A 
false  weight  and  a  false  balance  are  an  abomination, 
and  in  that  light  this  tender  act  must  be  viewed  by 
every  impartial  person.  Who,  but  an  idiot,  would 


158  LETTERS. 

believe  that  forty  were  equal  to  seventy-five  ?  But 
the  repeal  gives  us  reason  to  hope,  that  justice  and 
righteousness  will  again  exalt  our  nation  ;  that  public 
faith  will  be  restored  ;  that  individuals  will  lend  to 
the  public  ;  and  that  the  heavy  taxes,  which  now  dis 
tress  all  orders,  will  be  lessened. 

A  late  committee,  who  have  been  sitting  upon 
ways  and  means  for  raising  money,  tell  us,  that  a 
tax  for  two  years  more,  equal  to  what  we  have  paid 
in  the  last,  would  clear  this  State  of  debt.  You  may 
judge  of  the  weight  of  them  ;  yet  our  State  taxes  are 
but  as  a  grain  of  mustard  seed,  when  compared  with 
our  town  taxes.  Clinton,  I  hear,  has  sent  out  a  pro 
clamation  upon  Germain's  plan,  inviting  the  people  to 
make  a  separate  peace,  which  will  only  be  a  new 
proof  of  the  ignorance  and  folly  of  our  enemies, 
without  making  a  single  proselyte.  Even  the  revolt 
ed  Pennsylvania  troops  gave  up  to  justice  the  spies, 
whom  Clinton  sent  to  them,  offering  them  clothing 
and  pay  ;  letting  him  know,  that  it  was  justice  from 
their  State,  not  favors  from  their  enemies,  which  they 
wanted. 

It  is  reported,  that  Arnold,  with  a  body  of  troops, 
is  gone  to  Virginia,  where  it  is  hoped  he  and  his 
Myrmidons  will  meet  their  fate.  Had  Clinton  been 
a  generous  enemy,  or  known  human  nature,  he 
would,  like  Aurelian,  upon  a  like  occasion,  have 
given  up  the  traitor  to  the  hands  of  justice  ;  knowing 
that  it  was  in  vain  to  expect  fidelity  in  a  man  who 
had  betrayed  his  own  country,  which,  from  his  de 
fection,  may  learn  to  place  a  higher  value  upon  in- 


LETTERS.  159 

tegrity  and  virtue  than  upon  a  savage  ferocity,  so 
often  mistaken  for  courage.  He  who,  as  an  individ 
ual,  is  cruel,  unjust,  and  immoral,  will  not  be  likely 
to  possess  the  virtues  necessary  in  a  general  or 
statesman.  Yet,  in  our  infant  country,  infidelity  and 
debauchery  are  so  fashionably  prevalent,  that  less 
attention  is  paid  to  the  characters  of  those  who  fill 
important  offices,  than  a  love  of  virtue  and  zeal  for 
public  liberty  can  warrant ;  which,  we  are  told  by 
wise  legislators  of  old,  are  the  surest  preservatives 
of  public  happiness. 

You  observe  in  a  late  letter,  that  your  absence 
from  your  native  State  will  deprive  you  of  an  oppor 
tunity  of  being  a  man  of  importance  in  it.  I  hope 
you  are  doing  your  country  more  extensive  service 
abroad,  than  you  could  have  done,  had  you  been 
confined  to  one  State  only  ;  and,  whilst  you  continue 
in  the  same  estimation  among  your  fellow-citizens 
in  which  you  are  now  held,  you  will  not  fail  of  being 
of  importance  to  them  at  home  or  abroad. 

Heaven  preserve  the  life  and  health  of  my  dear 
absent  friend,  and,  in  its  own  time,  return  him  to  his 
country  and  to  the  arms  of  his  ever  affectionate 

PORTIA. 


160  LETTERS. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

25  May,  1781. 

IN  this  beautiful  month,  when  Nature  wears  her 
gayest  garb,  and  animal  and  vegetable  life  is  dif 
fused  on  every  side  ;  when  the  cheerful  hand  of  in 
dustry  is  laying  a  foundation  for  a  plentiful  harvest, 
Who  can  forbear  to  rejoice  in  the  season,  or  refrain 
from  looking  "  through  nature  up  to  nature's  God  ;  " 

".To  feel  the  present  Deity,  and  taste 
The  joy  of  God,  to  see  a  happy  world." 

While  my  heart  expands,  it,  sighing,  seeks  its  associ 
ate,  and  joins  its  first  parent  in  that  beautiful  descrip 
tion  of  Milton. 

"  Sweet  is  the  breath  of  Morn,  her  rising  sweet, 
With  charm  of  earliest  birds  ;  pleasant  the  sun, 
When  first  on  this  delightful  land  he  spreads 
His  orient  beams  on  herb,  tree,  fruit,  and  flower, 
Glistering  with  dew;  fragrant  the  fertile  earth 
After  soft  showers  ;  and  sweet  the  coming  on 
Of  grateful  Evening  mild  ;  then  silent  Night 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  and  this  fair  moon, 
And  these  the  gems  of  Heaven,  her  starry  train  : 
But  neither  breath  of  morn  when  she  ascends 
W'ith  charm  of  earliest  birds  ;  nor  rising  sun 
On  this  delightful  land;  nor  herb,  fruit,  flower, 
Glistering  with  dew  ;  nor  fragrance  after  showers  ; 
Nor  grateful  Evening  mild  ;  nor  silent  Night 
With  this  her  solemn  bird,  nor  walk  by  moon, 
Or  glittering  starlight,  without  thee  is  sweet." 


LETTERS.  161 

This  passage  has  double  charms  for  me,  painted 
by  the  hand  of  truth ;  and  for  the  same  reason,  that 
a  dear  friend  of  mine,  after  having  viewed  a  pro 
fusion  of  beautiful  pictures,  pronounced  that  which 
represented  the  parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache 
to  be  worth  them  all.  The  journal  in  which  this  is 
mentioned  does  not  add  any  reason  why  it  was  so ; 
but  Portia  felt  its  full  force,  and  paid  a  grateful  tear 
to  the  acknowledgment. 

We  are  anxiously  waiting  for  intelligence  'from 
abroad.  We  shall  have  in  the  field  a  more  respect 
able  army,  than  has  appeared  there  since  the  com 
mencement  of  the  war ;  and  all  raised  for  three 
years  or  during  the  war,  most  of  them  men  who 
have  served  before.  The  towns  have  exerted  them 
selves  upon  this  occasion  with  a  spirit  becoming 
patriots.  We  wish  for  a  naval  force,  superior  to 
what  we  have  yet  had,  to  act  in  concert  with  our 
army.  We  have  been  flattered  from  day  to  day, 
yet  none  has  arrived.  The  enemy  exults  in  the 
delay,  and  is  improving  the  time  to  ravage  Caro 
lina  and  Virginia. 

We  hardly  know  what  to  expect  from  the  United 
Provinces,  because  we  are  not  fully  informed  of  their 
disposition.  Britain  has  struck  a  blow,  by  the  cap 
ture  of  Eustatia,  sufficient  to  arouse  and  unite  them 
against  her,  if  there  still  exists  that  spirit  of  liberty, 
which  shone  so  conspicuous  in  their  ancestors,  and 
which,  under  much  greater  difficulties,  led  their 
hardy  forefathers  to  reject  the  tyranny  of  Philip.  I 
wish  your  powers  may  extend  to  an  alliance  with 

VOL.  i.  11 


162  LETTERS. 

them,  and  that  you  may  be  as  successful  against  the 
artifices  of  Britain,  as  a  former  ambassador1  was 
against  those  of  another  nation,  when  he  negotiated 
a  triple  alliance  in  the  course  of  five  days,  with  an 
address  which  has  ever  done  honor  to  his  memory. 
If  I  was  not  so  nearly  connected,  I  should  add,  that 
there  is  no  small  similarity  in  the  character  of  my 
friend  and  the  gentleman,  whose  memoirs  I  have 
read  with  great  pleasure. 

Our  State  affairs  I  will  write  you,  if  the  vessel 
does  not  sail  till  after  election.  Our  friend,  Mr. 
Cranch,  goes  from  here  representative,  by  a  unani 
mous  vote.  Dr.  Tufts,  of  Weymouth,  is  chosen 
senator.  Our  governor  and  lieutenant-governor,  as 
at  the  beginning.  Our  poor  old  currency  is  breath- 
ing  its  last  gasp.  It  received  a  most  fatal  wound 
from  a  collection  of  near  the  whole  body's  entering 
here  from  the  southward  ;  having  been  informed, 
that  it  was  treated  here  with  more  respect,  and  that 
it  could  purchase  a  solid  and  durable  dress  here  for 
seventy-five  paper  dollars,  but  half  the  expense  it 
must  be  at  there,  it  travelled  here  with  its  whole 
train  ;  and,  being  much  debauched  in  its  manners^ 
communicated  the  contagion  all  of  a  sudden,  and  is 
universally  rejected.  It  has  given  us  a  great  shock. 
Your  ever  affectionate 

PORTIA. 
1  Sir  William  Temple. 


LETTERS.  163 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

9  December,  1781. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

I  HEAR  the  Alliance  is  again  going  to  France,  with 
the  Marquis  de  la  Fayette  and  the  Count  de  Noailles. 
I  will  not  envy  the  Marquis  the  pleasure  of  annually 
visiting  his  family,  considering  the  risk  he  runs  in 
doing  it ;  besides,  he  deserves  the  good  wishes  of 
every  American,  and  a  large  portion  of  the  honors 
and  applause  of  his  own  country.  He  returns  with  the 
additional  merit  of  laurels  won  at  Yorktown  by  the 
capture  of  a  whole  British  army.  America  may 
boast,  that  she  has  accomplished  what  no  power  be 
fore  her  ever  did,  contending  with  Britain, —  captur 
ed  two  of  their  celebrated  generals,  and  each  with 
an  army  of  thousands  of  veteran  troops  to  support 
them.  This  event,  whilst  it  must  fill  Britain  with 
despondency,  will  draw  the  Union  already  framed 
still  closer  and  give  us  additional  allies  ;  and,  if  prop 
erly  improved,  will  render  a  negotiation  easier  and 
more  advantageous  to  America. 

But  I  cannot  reflect  much  upon  public  affairs, 
until  I  have  unburdened  the  load  of  my  own  heart. 
Where  shall  I  begin  my  list  of  grievances  ?  Not  by 
accusations,  but  lamentations.  My  first  is,  that  I  do 
not  hear  from  you  ;  a  few  lines  only,  dated  in  April 
and  May,  have  come  to  hand  for  fifteen  months. 


164  LETTERS. 

You  do  not  mention  receiving  any  from  me  except 
by   Captain   Casneau,   though    I   wrote   by   Colonel 
Laurens,  by  Captain  Brown,  by  Mr.  Storer,  Dexter, 
and  many  others ;  to  Bilboa  by  Trask,  and  several 
times  by  way  of  France.     You  will  refer  me  to  Gil- 
Ion,  I  suppose.     Gillon   has   acted   a   base   part,  of 
which,  no  doubt,  you   are  long  ere   now  apprized. 
You   had   great   reason   to   suppose,  that  he  would 
reach  America  as  soon  or  sooner  than  the  merchant 
vessels,  and  placed  much  confidence  in  him  by  the 
treasure  you  permitted  to  go  on  board  of  him.     Ah  ! 
how  great  has  my  anxiety  been.     What  have  I  not 
suffered  since  I  heard  my  dear  Charles  was  on  board, 
and  no  intelligence  to  be   procured  of  the  vessel  for 
four  months  after  he  sailed.     Most  people  concluded, 
that  she  was  foundered  at  sea,  as  she  sailed  before  a 
violent  storm.     Only  three  weeks  ago  did  I  hear  the 
contrary.     My  uncle   despatched    a   messenger,  the 
moment  a  vessel  from  Bilboa  arrived  with  the  happy 
tidings,  that  she  was  safe  at  Corunna  ;  that  the  pas 
sengers  had  all  left  the  ship  in  consequence  of  Gil- 
Ion's  conduct,  and  were  arrived  at  Bilboa.     The  ves 
sel    sailed    the    day  that  the    passengers   arrived  at 
Bilboa,  so  that  no  letters  came  by  Captain  Lovett ; 
but  a  Dr.  Sands   reports,  that  he   saw  a  child,  who 
they  told  him  was  yours,  and  that  he  was  well.     This 
was  a  cordial  to  my  dejected  spirits.     I  know  not 
what  to  wish  for.     Should  he  attempt   to  come  at 
this  season  upon  the  coast,  it  has  more  horrors  than 
I  have  fortitude.     I  am  still  distressed  ;  I  must  resign 
him  to  the  kind,  protecting  hand  of  that  Being,  who 


LETTERS.  165 

hath  hitherto  preserved  him,  and  submit  to  whatever 
dispensation  is  allotted  me. 

What  is  the  matter  with  Mr.  Thaxter  ?  Has  he 
forgotten  all  his  American  friends,  that,  out  of  four 
vessels  which  have  arrived,  not  a  line  is  to  be  found 
on  board  of  one  of  them  from  him  ?  I  could  quarrel 
with  the  climate,  but  surely,  if  it  is  subject  to  the 
ague,  there  is  a  fever  fit  as  well  as  a  cold  one.  Mr. 
Guild  tells  me,  he  was  charged  with  letters,  but  left 
them,  with  his  other  things,  on  board  the  frigate. 
She  gave  him  the  slip  and  he  stepped  on  board  of 
Captain  Brown's  ship,  and  happily  arrived  safe. 
From  him  I  have  learned  many  things  respecting  my 
dear  connexions ;  but  still  I  long  for  that  free  com 
munication,  which  I  see  but  little  prospect  of  obtain 
ing.  Let  me  again  entreat  you  to  write  by  way  of 
Guardoqui.  Bilboa  is  as  safe  a  conveyance  as  I 
know  of.  Ah,  my  dear  John !  where  are  you  ?  In 
so  remote  a  part  of  the  globe,  that  I  fear  I  shall  not 
hear  a  syllable  from  you.  Pray  write  me  all  the  in 
telligence  you  get  from  him  ;  send  me  his  letters  to 
you.  Do  you  know  I  have  not  had  a  line  from  him 
for  a  year  and  a  half  ?  Alas  !  my  dear,  I  am  much 
afflicted  with  a  disorder  called  the  heartache,  nor 
can  any  remedy  be  found  in  America.  It  must  be 
collected  from  Holland,  Petersburg,  and  Bilboa. 

And  now,  having  recited  my  griefs  and  com 
plaints,  the  next  in  place  are  those  of  my  neigh 
bours.  I  have  been  applied  to  by  the  parents  of 
several  Braintree  youth  to  write  to  you  in  their  be 
half,  requesting  your  aid  and  assistance,  if  it  is  in 


166  LETTERS. 

your  power  to  afford  it.  Captain  Cathcart,  in  the 
privateer  Essex,  from  Salem,  went  out  on  a  cruise 
last  April  in  the  Channel  of  England,  and  was,  on 
the  10th  of  June,  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  taken  and 
carried  into  Ireland.  The  officers  were  confined 
there,  but  the  sailors  were  sent  prisoners  to  Ply 
mouth  jail,  twelve  of  whom  are  from  this  town,  a  list 
of  whom  I  enclose.  The  friends  of  these  people 
have  received  intelligence  by  way  of  an  officer,  who 
belonged  to  the  Protector,  and  who  escaped  from  the 
jail,  that  in  August  last  they  were  all  alive,  several 
of  them  very  destitute  of  clothing,  having  taken  but 
a  few  with  them  and  those  for  the  summer,  particu 
larly  Ned  Savil  and  Job  Field.  Their  request  is, 
that,  if  you  can,  you  would  render  them  some  assist 
ance  ;  if  not  by  procuring  an  exchange,  that  you 
would  get  them  supplied  with  necessary  clothing.  I 
have  told  them,  that  you  would  do  all  in  your  power 
for  them,  but  what  that  would  be,  I  could  not  say. 
Their  friends  here  are  all  well,  many  of  them  greatly 
distressed  for  their  children,  and  in  a  particular  man 
ner  the  mother  of  Josiah  Bass.  I  wish  you  to  be 
very  particular  in  letting  me  know,  by  various  oppor 
tunities  and  ways  after  the  receipt  of  this,  whether 
you  have  been  able  to  do  any  thing  for  them,  that 
I  may  relieve  the  minds  of  these  distressed  parents. 
The  Captain  got  home  about  three  months  ago  by 
escaping  to  France,  but  could  give  no  account  of  his 
men  after  they  were  taken. 

Two  years,  my  dearest  friend,  have  passed  away 
since  you  left  your  native  land.     Will  you  not  re- 


LETTERS.  167 

turn  ere  the  close  of  another  year  ?  I  will  purchase 
you  a  retreat  in  the  woods  of  Vermont,  and  retire 
with  you  from  the  vexations,  toils,  and  hazards  of 
public  life.  Do  you  not  sometimes  sigh  for  such  a 
seclusion  ?  Public  peace  and  domestic  happiness ; 

"  an  elegant  sufficiency,  content, 
Retirement,  rural  quiet;  friendship,  books, 
Ease  and  alternate  labor;  useful  life, 
Progressive  virtue,  and  approving  Heaven." 

May  the  time,  the  happy  time  soon  arrive,  when 
we  may  realize  these  blessings,  so  elegantly  described 
by  Thomson  ;  for,  though  many  of  your  countrymen 
talk  in  a  different  style  with  regard  to  their  intentions, 
and  express  their  wishes  to  see  you  in  a  conspicuous 
point  of  view  in  your  own  State,  I  feel  no  ambition 
for  a  share  of  it.  I  know  the  voice  of  fame  to  be  a 
mere  weather-cock,  unstable  as  water  and  fleeting  as 
a  shadow.  Yet  I  have  pride  ;  I  know  I  have  a  large 
portion  of  it. 

I  very  fortunately  received,  by  the  Apollo,  by  the 
Juno,  and  by  the  Minerva,  the  things  you  sent  me, 
all  in  good  order.  They  will  enable  me  to  do,  I 
hope,  without  drawing  upon  you,  provided  I  can  part 
with  them ;  but  money  is  so  scarce,  and  taxes  so 
high,  that  few  purchasers  are  found.  Goods  will  not 
double,  yet  they  are  better  than  drawing  bills,  as 
these  cannot  be  sold  but  with  a  large  discount.  I 
could  not  get  more  than  ninety  for  a  hundred  dollars, 
should  I  attempt  it. 

I  shall  enclose  an  invoice  to  the  house  of  Ingra- 


168  LETTERS. 

ham  and  Bromfield,  and  one  to  De  Neufville.  There 
is  nothing  from  Bilboa  that  can  be  imported  to  advan 
tage.  Handkerchiefs  are  sold  here  at  seven  dollars 
and  a  half  per  dozen.  There  are  some  articles 
which  would  be  advantageous  from  Holland,  but 
goods  there  run  high,  and  the  retailing  vendues, 
which  are  tolerated  here,  ruin  the  shopkeepers. 
The  articles  put  up  by  the  American  house  were 
better  in  quality  for  the  price  than  those  by  the 
house  of  De  Neufville.  Small  articles  have  the  best 
profit ;  gauze,  ribbons,  feathers,  and  flowers,  to  make 
the  ladies  gay,  have  the  best  advance.  There  are 
some  articles,  which  come  from  India,  I  should  sup 
pose  would  be  lower-priced  than  many  others,  —  Ben 
gals,  nankeens,  Persian  silk,  and  bandanna  handker 
chiefs  ;  but  the  house  of  Bromfield  know  best  what 
articles  will  suit  here. 

Believe  me,  with  more  affection  than  words  can 
express,  ever,  ever,  yours. 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

25  October,  1782. 


MY   DEAREST  FRIEND, 


THE  family  are  all  retired  to  rest ;  the  busy  scenes 
of  the  day  are  over  ;  a  day  which  I  wished  to  have 
devoted  in  a  particular  manner  to  my  dearest  friend ; 


LETTERS.  Iby 

but  company  falling  in  prevented  it,  nor  could  I  claim 
a  moment  until  this  silent  watch  of  the  night. 

Look,  (is  there  a  dearer  name  than  friend  ?  Think 
of  it  for  me,)  look  to  the  date  of  this  letter,  and  tell 
me,  what  are  the  thoughts  which  arise  in  your  mind  ? 
Do  you  not  recollect,  that  eighteen  years  have  run 
their  circuit  since  we  pledged  our  mutual  faith  to 
each  other,  and  the  hymeneal  torch  was  lighted  at 
the  altar  of  Love  ?  Yet,  yet  it  burns  with  unabating 
fervor.  Old  Ocean  has  not  quenched  it,  nor  old  Time 
smothered  it  in  this  bosom.  It  cheers  me  in  the 
lonely  hour ;  it  comforts  me  even  in  the  gloom  which 
sometimes  possesses  my  mind. 

It  is,  my  friend,  from  the  remembrance  of  the  joys 
I  have  lost,  that  the  arrow  of  affliction  is  pointed.  I 
recollect  the  untitled  man,  to  whom  I  gave  my  heart, 
and,  in  the  agony  of  recollection,  when  time  and 
distance  present  themselves  together,  wish  he  had 
never  been  any  other.  Who  shall  give  me  back  time  ? 
Who  shall  compensate  to  me  those  years  I  cannot 
recall  ?  How  dearly  have  I  paid  for  a  titled  hus 
band  ?  Should  I  wish  you  less  wise,  that  I  might 
enjoy  more  happiness  ?  I  cannot  find  that  in  my 
heart.  Yet  Providence  has  wisely  placed  the  real 
blessings  of  life  within  the  reach  of  moderate  abilities ; 
and  he  who  is  wiser  than  his  neighbour  sees  so  much 
more  to  pity  and  lament,  that  I  doubt  whether  the 
balance  of  happiness  is  in  his  scale. 

I  feel  a  disposition  to  quarrel  with  a  race  of  beings 
who  have  cut  me  off,  in  the  midst  of  my  days,  from 
the  only  society  I  delighted  in.  "  Yet  no  man  liveth 


170  LETTERS. 

for  himself,"  says  an  authority  I  will  not  dispute. 
Let  me  draw  satisfaction  from  this  source,  and,  in 
stead  of  murmuring  and  repining  at  my  lot,  consider 
it  in  a  more  pleasing  view.  Let  me  suppose,  that 
the  same  gracious  Being,  who  first  smiled  upon  our 
union  and  blessed  us  in  each  other,  endowed  my 
friend  with  powers  and  talents  for  the  benefit  of  man 
kind,  and  gave  him  a  willing  mind  to  improve  them 
for  the  service  of  his  country.  You  have  obtained 
honor  and  reputation  at  home  and  abroad.  O  !  may 
not  an  inglorious  peace  wither  the  laurels  you  have 
won. 

I  wrote  you  by  Captain  Grinnell.  The  Firebrand 
is  in  great  haste  to  return,  and  I  fear  will  not  give  me 
time  to  say  half  I  wish.  I  want  you  to  say  many 
more  things  to  me  than  you  do ;  but  you  write  so 
wise,  so  like  a  minister  of  state.  I  know  your 
embarrassments.  Thus  again  I  pay  for  titles.  Life 
takes  its  complexion  from  inferior  things.  It  is  little 
attentions  and  assiduities  that  sweeten  the  bitter  draught 
and  smooth  the  rugged  road. 

I  have  repeatedly  expressed  my  desire  to  make  a 
part  of  your  family.  But  "  Will  you  come  and  see 
me  ?  "  cannot  be  taken  in  that  serious  light  1  should 
choose  to  consider  an  invitation  from  those  I  love. 
I  do  not  doubt  but  that  you  would  be  glad  to  see  me, 
but  I  know  you  are  apprehensive  of  dangers  and 
fatigues.  I  know  your  situation  may  be  unsettled, 
and  it  may  be  more  permanent  than  I  wish  it.  Only 
think  how  the  words,  "  three,  four,  and  five  years' 
absence,"  sound  ?  They  sink  into  my  heart  with  a 


LETTERS.  171 

weight  I  cannot  express.  Do  you  look  like  the  min 
iature  you  sent  ?  I  cannot  think  so.  But  you  have 
a  better  likeness,  I  am  told.  Is  that  designed  for  me  ? 
Gracious  Heaven  !  restore  to  me  the  original,  and  I 
care  not  who  has  the  shadow. 

We  are  hoping  for  the  fall  of  Gibraltar,  because 
we  imagine  that  will  facilitate  a  peace  ;  and  who  is 
not  weary  of  the  war  ?  The  French  fleet  still  re 
main  with  us,  and  the  British  cruisers  insult  them. 
More  American  vessels  have  been  captured  since 
they  have  lain  here  than  for  a  year  before  ;  the 
General  Greene  is  taken  and  carried  into  Halifax,  by 
which,  I  suppose,  I  have  lost  some  small  bundles  or 
packages.  Beals  told  me,  that  you  gave  him  seven 
small  packages,  which  he  delivered  Captain  Bacon 
for  me.  The  prisoners  have  all  arrived,  except 
Savil,  who  is  yet  in  France.  I  mentioned  to  you 
before,  that  some  of  them  had  been  with  me,  and 
offered  to  repay  the  money  with  which  you  supplied 
them.  I  could  only  tell  them,  that  I  had  never  re 
ceived  a  line  from  you  concerning  the  matter,  and  that 
I  chose  first  to  hear  from  you.  I  would  not  receive 
a  farthing,  unless  I  had  your  express  direction,  and 
your  handwriting  to  prove,  that  what  you  had  done 
was  from  your  private  purse,  which  I  was  confident 
was  the  case,  or  you  would  have  been  as  ready  to 
have  relieved  others,  if  you  had  any  public  funds  for 
that  purpose,  as  those  which  belonged  to  this  town. 
I  found  a  story  prevailing,  that  what  you  had  done 
was  at  the  public  expense.  This  took  its  rise  either 
from  ignorance  or  ingratitude  ;  but  it  fully  determin- 


172  LETTERS. 

ed  me  to  receive  your  direction.  The  persons  who 
have  been  with  me  are  the  two  Clarks,  the  two 
Beales,  and  Job  Field. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend.     Ever,  ever,  yours, 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN  ADAMS. 

13  November,  1782. 


MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 


I  HAVE  lived  to  see  the  close  of  the  third  year  of  our 
separation.  This  is  a  melancholy  anniversary  to 
me,  and  many  tender  scenes  arise  in  my  mind  upon 
the  recollection.  I  feel  unable  to  sustain  even  the 
idea,  that  it  will  be  half  that  period  ere  we  meet 
again.  Life  is  too  short  to  have  the  dearest  of  its 
enjoyments  curtailed  ;  the  social  feelings  grow  cal 
lous  by  disuse,  and  lose  that  pliancy  of  affection 
which  sweetens  the  cup  of  life  as  we  drink  it.  The 
rational  pleasures  of  friendship  and  society,  and 
the  still  more  refined  sensations  of  which  delicate 
minds  only  are  susceptible,  like  the  tender  blossom, 
when  the  rude  northern  blasts  assail  them,  shrink 
within  and  collect  themselves  together,  deprived  of 
the  all-cheering  and  beamy  influence  of  the  sun. 
The  blossom  falls  and  the  fruit  withers  and  decays ; 
but  here  the  similitude  fails,  for,  though  lost  for  the 


LETTERS.  173 

present,  the  season  returns,  the  tree  vegetates  anew, 
and  the  blossom  again  puts  forth. 

But,  alas  !  with  me,  those  days  which  are  past 
are  gone  for  ever,  and  time  is  hastening  on  that 
period  when  I  must  fall  to  rise  no  more,  until  mor 
tality  shall  put  on  immortality,  and  we  shall  meet 
again,  pure  and  disembodied  spirits.  Could  we  live 
to  the  age  of  the  antediluvians,  we  might  better  sup 
port  this  separation  ;  but,  when  threescore  years  and 
ten  circumscribe  the  life  of  man,  how  painful  is  the 
idea,  that,  of  that  short  space,  only  a  few  years  of 
social  happiness  are  our  allotted  portion. 

Perhaps  I  make  you  unhappy.  No.  You  will 
enter  with  a  soothing  tenderness  into  my  feelings. 
I  see  in  your  eyes  the  emotions  of  your  heart,  and 
hear  the  sigh  that  is  wafted  across  the  Atlantic  to 
the  bosom  of  Portia.  But  the  philosopher  and  the 
statesman  stifles  these  emotions,  and  regains  a  firm 
ness  which  arrests  my  pen  in  my  hand. 

25  November. 

I  received  from  France  by  the  Alexander  yours, 
bearing  no  date,  but,  by  the  contents,  written  about 
the  same  time  with  those  I  received  by  Mr.  Guild. 
Shall  I  return  the  compliment,  and  tell  you  in  a 
poetical  style, 

'-  Should  at  my  feet  the  world's  great  master  fall, 
Himself,  his  world,  his  throne,  I  'd  scorn  them  all." 

No.     Give  me  the  man  I  love  ;  you  are  neither 


174  LETTERS. 

of  an  age  or  temper  to  be  allured  by  the  splendor  of 
a  court,  or  the  smiles  of  princesses.  1  never  suf 
fered  an  uneasy  sensation  on  that  account.  I  know 
I  have  a  right  to  your  whole  heart,  because  my  own 
never  knew  another  lord  ;  and  such  is  my  con 
fidence  in  you,  that,  if  you  were  not  withheld  by  the 
strongest  of  all  obligations,  those  of  a  moral  nature, 
your  honor  would  not  suffer  you  to  abuse  my  con 
fidence. 

But  whither  am  I  rambling?  We  have  not  any 
thing  in  the  political  way  worth  noticing.  The  fleet 
of  our  allies  still  remains  with  us. 

Who  is  there  left  that  will  sacrifice  as  others  have 
done  ?  Portia,  I  think,  stands  alone,  alas,  in  more 
senses  than  one.  This  vessel  will  convey  to  you  the 
packets  designed  for  the  Firebrand.  I  hope,  unim 
portant  as  they  are,  they  will  not  be  lost. 

Shall  I  close  here,  without  a  word  of  my  voyage  ? 
I  believe  it  is  best  to  wait  a  reply,  before  I  say  any 
thing  further.  Our  friends  desire  me  to  remember 
them  to  you.  Your  daughter,  your  image,  your  su 
perscription,  desires  to  be  affectionately  remembered 
to  you.  O,  how  many  of  the  sweet  domestic  joys 
do  you  lose  by  this  separation  from  your  family.  I 
have  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  my  children  thus  far 
in  life  behaving  with  credit  and  honor.  God  grant 
the  pleasing  prospect  may  never  meet  with  an  alloy, 
and  return  to  me  the  dear  partner  of  my  early  years, 
rewarded  for  his  past  sacrifices  by  the  consciousness 
of  having  been  extensively  useful,  not  having  lived 
to  himself  alone  ;  and  may  the  approving  voice  of  his 


LETTERS.  175 

country  crown  his  later  days  in  peaceful  retirement, 
in  the  affectionate  bosom  of 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

23  December,  1782. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

I  HAVE  omitted  writing  by  the  last  opportunity  to 
Holland,  because  I  had  but  small  faith  in  the  designs 
of  the  owners  or  passengers  ;  and  I  had  just  written 
you  so  largely,  by  a  vessel  bound  to  France,  that  I 
had  nothing  new  to  say.  There  are  few  occurrences 
in  this  northern  climate,  at  this  season  of  the  year, 
to  divert  or  entertain  you  ;  and,  in  the  domestic  way, 
should  I  draw  you  the  picture  of  my  heart,  it  would 
be  what  I  hope  you  still  would  love,  though  it  con 
tained  nothing  new.  The  early  possession  you  ob 
tained  there,  and  the  absolute  power  you  have  ever 
maintained  over  it,  leave  not  the  smallest  space  un 
occupied.  I  look  back  to  the  early  days  of  our  ac 
quaintance  and  friendship,  as  to  the  days  of  love  and 
innocence,  and,  with  an  indescribable  pleasure,  I 
have  seen  near  a  score  of  years  roll  over  our  heads, 
with  an  affection  heightened  and  improved  by  time  ; 
nor  have  the  dreary  years  of  absence  in  the  smallest 
degree  effaced  from  my  mind  the  image  of  the  dear, 
untitled  man  to  whom  I  gave  my  heart.  I  cannot 


176  LETTERS. 

sometimes  refrain  considering  the  honors  with  which 
he  is  invested,  as  badges  of  my  unhappiness.  The 
unbounded  confidence  I  have  in  your  attachment  to 
me  and  the  dear  pledges  of  our  affection,  has  soothed 
the  solitary  hour,  and  rendered  your  absence  more 
supportable  ;  for,  had  I  loved  you  with  the  same  af 
fection,  it  must  have  been  misery  to  have  doubted. 
Yet  a  cruel  world  too  often  injures  my  feelings,  by 
wondering  how  a  person,  possessed  of  domestic  at 
tachments,  can  sacrifice  them  by  absenting  himself 
for  years. 

"  If  you  had  known,"  said  a  person  to  me  the 
other  day,  "  that  Mr.  Adams  would  have  remained 
so  long  abroad,  would  you  have  consented  that  he 
should  have  gone  ?  "  I  recollected  myself  a  moment, 
and  then  spoke  the  real  dictates  of  my  heart.  "  If  I 
had  known,  Sir,  that  Mr.  Adams  could  have  effected 
what  he  has  done,  I  would  not  only  have  submitted 
to  the  absence  I  have  endured,  painful  as  it  has  been, 
but  I  would  not  have  opposed  it,  even  though  three 
years  more  should  be  added  to  the  number,  (which 
Heaven  avert !)  I  feel  a  pleasure  in  being  able  to 
sacrifice  my  selfish  passions  to  the  general  good, 
and  in  imitating  the  example,  which  has  taught  me 
to  consider  myself  and  family  but  as  the  small  dust 
of  the  balance,  when  compared  with  the  great  com 
munity." 

It  is  now,  my  dear  friend,  a  long,  long  time,  since 
I  had  a  line  from  you.  The  fate  of  Gibraltar  leads 
me  to  fear,  that  a  peace  is  far  distant,  and  that  I  shall 
not  see  you,  —  God  only  knows  when.  I  shall  say 


LETTERS.  177 

little  about  my  former  request ;  not  that  my  desire  is 
less,  but,  before  this  can  reach  you,  'tis  probable  I 
may  receive  your  opinion  ;  if  in  favor  of  my  coming 
to  you,  I  shall  have  no  occasion  to  urge  it  further  ; 
if  against  it,  I  would  not  embarrass  you  by  again  re 
questing  it.  I  will  endeavour  to  sit  down  and  consider 
it  as  the  portion  allotted  me.  My  dear  sons  are  well. 
Our  friends  all  desire  to  be  remembered.  The  fleet 
of  our  allies  expects  to  sail  daily,  but  where  destined 
we  know  not.  A  great  harmony  has  subsisted  be 
tween  them  and  the  Americans  ever  since  their  resi 
dence  here. 

Adieu,  my  dear  friend.  Why  is  it,  that  I  hear  so 
seldom  from  my  dear  John  ?  But  one  letter  have  I 
ever  received  from  him  since  he  arrived  in  Peters- 
burgh.  I  wrote  him  by  the  last  opportunity.  Ever 
remember  me,  as  I  do  you,  with  all  the  tenderness, 
which  it  is  possible  for  one  object  to  feel  for  another, 
which  no  time  can  obliterate,  no  distance  alter,  but 
which  is  always  the  same  in  the  bosom  of 

PORTIA. 


TO    JOHN    ADAMS. 

28  April,  1783. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

AT  length  an  opportunity  offers,  after  a  space  of  near 
five  months,  of  again  writing  to  you.     Not  a  vessel 
from  any  port  in  this  State  has  sailed  since  January, 
VOL.  i.  12 


178  LETTERS. 

,by  which  I  could  directly  convey  you  a  line.  I  have 
written  twice  by  way  of  Virginia,  but  fear  the  let 
ters  will  never  reach  you.  From  you,  I  have  lately 
received  several  letters,  containing  the  most  pleasing 
intelligence. 

"  Peace  o'er  the  world  her  oli^e  branch  extends." 

Hail,  "  Goddess,  heavenly  bright, 
Profuse  of  joy  and  pregnant  with  delight." 

The  garb  of  this  favorite  of  America  is  woven  of 
an  admirable  texture,  and  proves  the  great  skill,  wis 
dom,  and  abilities  of  the  master  workmen.  It  was 
not  fabricated  in  the  loom  of  France,  nor  are  the 
materials  English,  but  they  are  the  product  of  our 
own  American  soil,  raised  and  nurtured,  not  by  the 
gentle  showers  of  Heaven,  but  by  the  hard  labor  and 
indefatigable  industry  and  firmness  of  her  sons,  and 
watered  by  the  blood  of  many  of  them.  May  its 
duration  be  in  proportion  to  its  value,  and,  like  the 
mantle  of  the  prophet,  descend  with  blessings  to 
generations  yet  to  come.  And  may  you,  my  dearest 
friend,  return  to  your  much  loved  solitude,  with  the 
pleasing  reflection  of  having  contributed  to  the  hap 
piness  of  millions. 

We  have  not  received  any  account  of  the  signing 
the  definitive  treaty,  so  that  no  public  rejoicings  have 
taken  place  as  yet.  The  fifth  article  in  the  treaty 
has  raised  the  old  spirit  against  the  Tories  to  such  a 
height  that  it  would  be  at  the  risk  of  their  lives, 
should  they  venture  here.  It  may  subside  after  a 


LETTERS.  179 

while,  but  I  question  whether  any  State  in  the  Union 
will  admit  them,  even  for  twelve  months.  What 
then  would  have  been  the  consequence,  if  compensa 
tion  had  been  granted  them  ? 

Your  Journal  has  afforded  me  and  your  friends 
much  pleasure  and  amusement.  You  will  learn, 
perhaps^  from  Congress,  that  the  Journal  you  meant 
for  Mr.  Jackson,  was,  by  some  mistake,1  enclosed  to 
the  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  consequently 
came  before  Congress,  -wjth  other  public  papers. 
The  Massachusetts  delegates  applied  for  it,  but  were 
refused  it.  Mr.  Jackson  wras  kind  enough  to  wait 
upon  rrfe,  and  show  me  your  letter  to  him,  and  the 
other  papers  enclosed ;  and  I  communicated  the 
Journal  to  him.  Mr.  Higginson  writes,  that  it  was 
moved  in  Congress  by  Hamilton,  of  N  Virginia,  and 
Wilson  of  Pennsylvania,  to  censure  their  ministers 
for  departing  from  their  duty,  in  not  adhering  to 
their  instructions,  and  for  giving  offence  to  the  Court 
of  France  by  distrusting  their  friendship.  They, 
however,  could  not  carry  their  point.  It  was  said, 
the  instruction  alluded  to  was  founded  upon  reciproci 
ty,  and  that  Count  de  Vergennes  had  not  acted  upon 
that  principle.  When  these  gentry  found,  that  it 
would  not  be  considered  in  the  light  in  which  they 
wished,  they  gave  out,  that,  if  no  more  was  said  upon 
that  subject,  the  other  would  drop.  This  is  all  I  have 

1  It  \vas  this  mistake  which  furnished  the  principal  accusa 
tion  made  against  Mr.  Adams  in  Alexander  Hamilton's  cele 
brated  pamphlet,  published  in  le'OO,  upon  the  eve  of  the  Pres 
idential  election. 


180  LETTERS. 

been  able  to  collect.  My  intelligence  is  very  im 
perfect  l  since  Mr.  Lovell  left  Congress.  Mr.  Gerry, 
I  believe,  is  determined  to  go  again.  I  shall  then 
have  a  friend  and  correspondent  who  will  keep  me 
informed. 

Upon  receiving  a  letter  from  you,  in  which  you 
desire  me  to  come  to  you,  should  you  be  .long  de 
tained  abroad,  I  took  the  liberty  of  writing  to  Dr. 
Lee,2  requesting  him  to  give  me  the  earliest  intelli 
gence  respecting  the  acceptance  of  your  resignation. 
I  do  not  think  it  will  be  accepted,  by  what  I  have 
already  learnt.  If  it  is  not,  I  shall  still  feel  undeter 
mined  what  to  do.  From  many  of  your  letters, 
I  was  led  to  suppose  you  would  not  return  without 
permission.  Yet  I  do  not  imagine  the  bare  renewal 

1  This  will  account  for  the  errors,  which  are  many  and 
striking  in  this  paragraph.     No  motion  of  the  kind  alluded  to 
appears  in  the  Journal  of  Congress.     But  by  the  papers  of 
Mr.  Madison,  lately  published,  we  find  that  it  was  made,  and 
particularly   directed    against   Mr.    Adams.     It   was   offered, 
however,  by  Mr.  Mercer  of  Virginia,  and  seconded  by  Mr. 
Madison  himself,  for  reasons  which  are  stated  by  the  latter ; 
but  it  was  found  not  to  be  acceptable  to  a  large  proportion  of 
the  members,  particularly  to  the   Eastern  delegates,  and  was, 
therefore,  never  pressed  to  a  decision.     Neither  Mr.  Hamilton 
of  New  York,  nor  Mr.  Wilson  of  Pennsylvania,  appears  to 
have  been  anxious  to  adopt  it. 

Upon  this,  the  most  controverted  and  debatable  ground  of 
the  history  of  our  Revolution,  which  has  been  elaborately 
occupied  of  late  by  Mr.  Sparks,  in  his  various  contributions 
to  it,  the  present  is  not  the  fitting  occasion  to  add  a  word  of 
commentary.  —  See  the  Papers  of  James  Madison,  p.  407. 

2  Arthur  Lee,  then  a  member  of  Congress  from  Virginia. 


LETTERS.  181 

of  a  former  commission  would  induce  you  to  tarry. 
I  shall  not  run  the  risk,  unless  you  are  appointed 
Minister  at  the  Court  of  Great  Britain. 

Our  friends  are  all  well,  and  desire  to  be  affec 
tionately  remembered  to  you.  Where  is  our  son  ? 
I  hear  no  more  of  him  than  if  he  was  out  of  the 
world.  You  wrote  me  in  yours  of  December  4th, 
that  he  was  upon  his  journey  to  you,  but  I  have 
never  heard  of  his  arrival.  Need  I  add  how  earnest 
ly  I  long  for  the  day  when  Heaven  will  again  bless 
us  in  the  society  of  each  other  ?  Whether  upon 
European  or  American  ground,  is  yet  in  the  book  of 
uncertainty  ;  but,  to  feel  entirely  happy  and  easy, 
I  believe  it  must  be  in  our  own  republican  cottage, 
with  the  simplicity  which  has  ever  distinguished  it 
and  your  ever  affectionate 

PORTIA. 

29  April. 

I  last  evening  received  yours  of  February  18th, 
in  which  you  are  explicit  with  regard  to  your  return. 
I  shall,  therefore,  (let  Congress  renew  or  create  what 
commission  they  please,)  at  least  wait  your  further 
direction,  though  you  should  be  induced  to  tarry 
abroad.  I  have  taken  no  step  as  yet  with  regard  to 
coming  out,  except  writing  to  Dr.  Lee,  as  mentioned 
before.  Heaven  send  you  safe  to  your  ever  affec 
tionate 

PORTIA. 


182  LETTERS. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  20  June,  1783. 

MY  DEAREST    FRIEND, 

IF  I  was  certain  I  should  welcome  you  to  your  native 
land  in  the  course  of  the  summer,  I  should  not  re 
gret  Mr.  Smith's  going  abroad  without  me.  Should 
it  be  otherwise,  should  you  still  be  detained  abroad, 
I  must  submit,  satisfied  that  you  judge  best,  and  that 
you  would  not  subject  me  to  so  heavy  a  disappoint 
ment,  or  yourself  to  so  severe  a  mortification  as  I 
flatter  myself  it  would  be,  but  for  the  general  good. 
A  European  life,  would,  you  say,  be  the  ruin  of  our 
children.  If  so,  I  should  be  as  loth  as  you  to  hazard 
their  imbibing  sentiments  and  opinions,  which  might 
make  them  unhappy  in  a  sphere  of  life,  which  't  is 
probable  they  must  fill,  not  by  indulging  in  luxuries 
for  which  it  is  more  than  possible  they  might  con 
tract  a  taste  and  inclination,  but  in  studious  and  la 
borious  pursuits. 

You  have  before  this  day  received  a  joint  commis 
sion  for  forming  a  commercial  treaty  with  Britain. 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  determine  whether  you  will  consid 
er  yourself  so  bound  by  it,  as  to  tarry  longer  abroad. 
Perhaps  there  has  been  no  juncture  in  the  public  af 
fairs  of  our  country,  not  even  in  the  hour  of  our 
deepest  distress,  when  able  statesmen  and  wise  coun 
sellors  were  more  wanted  than  at  the  present  day. 
Peace  abroad  leaves  us  at  leisure  to  look  into  our  own 


LETTERS.  183 

domestic  affairs.  Although,  upon  an  estimate  of  our 
national  debt,  it  appears  but  as  the  -small  dust  of  the 
balance  when  compared  to  the  object  we  have  ob 
tained,  and  the  benefits  we  have  secured,  yet  the 
restless  spirit  of  man  will  not  be  restrained  ;  and  we 
have  reason  to  fear,  that  domestic  jars  and  confusion 
will  take  place  of  foreign  contentions  and  devasta 
tion.  Congress  have  commuted  with  the  army,  by 
engaging  to  them  five  years'  pay  in  lieu  of  half-pay 
for  life.  With  security  for  this,  they  will  disband 
contented ;  but  our  wise  legislators  are  about  disput 
ing  the  power  of  Congress  to  do  either,  without  con 
sidering  their  hands  in  the  mouth  of  the  lion,  and  that, 
if  the  just  and  necessary  food  is  not  supplied,  the  out 
rageous  animal  may  become  so  ferocious  as  to  spread 
horror  and  devastation.  Another  Theseus  may  arise, 
who,  by  his  reputation  and  exploits  of  valor,  his 
personal  character  and  universal  popularity,  may 
destroy  our  Amphictyonic  system,  and  subjugate  our 
infant  republic  to  monarchical  domination. 

Our  House  of  Representatives  is  this  year  com 
posed  of  more  than  a  hundred  new  members,  some 
of  whom,  no  doubt,  are  good  men.  Nearly  all  the 
able  and  skilful  members,  who  composed  the  last 
House,  have  lost  their  seats  by  voting  for  the  return 
of  Mr.  Brattle,  notwithstanding  the  strongest  evidence 
in  his  favor,  and  the  many  proofs  which  were  pro 
duced  of  his  friendly  conduct  towards  America.  For 
this  crime,  our  worthy  friend  Mr.  Cranch  was  drop 
ped  by  this  town.  The  Senate  is  a  loser  this  year, 
by  the  resignation  of  some  excellent  members.  We 


184  LETTERS. 

have  in  this  State  an  impost  of  five  per  cent.,  and 
an  excise  act,  whilst  the  neighbouring  States  have 
neither.  Foreigners,  finding  this  the  case,  carry 
their  cargoes  to  other  States.  At  this  the  merchant 
grumbles,  ^he  farmer  groans  with  his  taxes,  and  the 
mechanic  for  want  of  employ.  Heaven  avert,  that, 
like  the  Greek  republics,  we  should,  by  civil  dissen 
sion,  weaken  our  power  and  crush  our  rising  great 
ness,  that  the  blood  of  our  citizens  should  be  shed  in 
vain,  and  the  labor  and  toil  of  our  statesmen  be 
finally  baffled  through  niggardly  parsimony,  lavish 
prodigality,  or  ignorance  of  our  real  interests.  We 
want  a  Solomon  in  wisdom,  to  guide  and  conduct 
this  great  people  at  this  critical  era,  when  the  coun 
sels  which  are  taken  and  the  measures  which  are 
pursued  will  mark  our  future  character,  either  with 
honor  and  fame,  or  disgrace  and  infamy.  In  adver 
sity,  we  have  conducted  with  prudence  and  magna 
nimity.  Heaven  forbid  that  we  should  grow  giddy 
with  prosperity  ;  or  the  height,  to  which  we  have 
soared,  render  a  fall  conspicuously  fatal. 

Thus  far  I  had  written  when  your  welcome  favor 
of  March  28th  reached  me.  I  was  not  disappointed 
in  finding  you  uncertain  with  regard  to  the  time  of 
your  return.  Should  the  appointment,  which  I  fear 
and  you  have  hinted  at,  take  place,  it  would  indeed 
be  a  dull  day  to  me.  I  have  not  a  wish  to  join  in  a 
scene  of  life  so  different  from  that,  in  which  I  have 
been  educated,  and  in  which  my  early,  and,  I  must 
suppose,  happier  days,  have  been  spent.  Curiosity 
satisfied,  and  I  shall  sigh  for  tranquil  scenes, 


LETTERS.  185 

"  And  wish  that  Heaven  had  left  me  still 
The  whispering  zephyr  and  the  purling  rill." 

Well-ordered  home  is  my  chief  delight,  and  the 
affectionate,  domestic  wife,  with  the  relative  duties 
which  accompany  that  character,  my  highest  am 
bition.  It  was  the  disinterested  wish  of  sacrificing 
my  personal  feelings  to  the  public  utility,  which  first 
led  me  to  think  of  unprotectedly  hazarding  a  voyage. 
I  say  unprotectedly,  for  so  I  consider  every  lady, 
who  is  not  accompanied  by  her  husband.  This 
objection  could  only  be  surmounted  by  the  earnest 
wish  I  had  to  soften  those  toils  which  were  not  to  be 
dispensed  with  ;  and,  if  the  public  welfare  required 
your  labors  and  exertions  abroad,  I  flattered  myself 
that,  if  I  could  be  with  you,  it  might  be  in  my  power 
to  contribute  to  your  happiness  and  pleasure.  But 
the  day  is  now  arrived,  when,  with  honor  and  well- 
earned  fame,  you  may  return  to  your  native  land  ; 
when  I  cannot  any  longer  consider  it  as  my  duty  to 
submit  to  a  further  separation ;  and  when  it  appears 
necessary,  that  those  abilities,  which  have  crowned 
you  with  laurels  abroad,  shall  be  exerted  at  home 
for  the  public  safety. 

I  do  not  wish  you  to  accept  an  embassy  to  Eng 
land,  should  you  be  appointed.  This  little  cottage 
has  more  heart-felt  satisfaction  for  you  than  the 
most  brilliant  court  can  afford. 

I  will  bid  you  good  night.     Yours, 

PORTIA. 


186  LETTERS. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

19  November,  1783. 

MY  DEAREST  FRIEND, 

YOUR  favor,  dated  at  Amsterdam  in  July,  was  last 
evening  handed  me,  and  this  evening  your  letter  of 
the  10th  of  September,  by  Colonel  Ogden,  reached 
me.  I  had  for  some  time  supposed  that  the  delay 
of  public  business  would  retard  your  return  ;  and, 
knowing  that  the  definitive  treaty  was  not  completed 
until  September,  and  that  the  commercial  treaty  was 
still  to  form,  I  had  little  reason  to  expect  you,  unless 
your  state  of  health  required  an  immediate  resigna 
tion  of  all  public  business.  Your  letter,  therefore, 
which  informs  me  of  your  determination  to  pass 
another  winter  abroad,  is  by  no  means  unexpected. 
That  we  must  pass  it  with  a  vast  ocean  between  us 
is  a  reflection  no  ways  pleasurable,  yet  this  must  be 
the  case.  I  had  much  to  do  to  persuade  myself  to 
venture  a  summer  passage,  but  a  winter  one  I  never 
could  think  of  encountering.  I  am  too  much  of  a 
coward.  It  is  now  the  middle  of  November.  It 
would  be  December  or  January,  before  I  could  pos 
sibly  adjust  all  my  affairs  ;  and  I  know  of  no  person 
with  whom  I  am  acquainted,  except  Mr.  Jackson  of 
Newburyport,  who  is  now  going  abroad.  Mr.  Tem 
ple  and  family  sail  this  month.  Besides,  there  is  a 
stronger  objection  with  me  than  even  a  winter's 
voyage.  Congress  have  not  appointed  any  person 


LETTERS.  187 

yet  to  the  Court  of  Britain.  There  are  many  who 
wish  for  that  place.  Many  who  have  a  more  splen 
did  title,  and  many  more  thousands,  to  claim  it  with. 
I  know  Mr.  Jay  has  written  pressingly  to  Congress 
in  your  favor,  and  absolutely  declined  it  himself; 
but  whether  you  will  finally  be  the  person  is  among 
the  uncertain  events.  One  thing,  however,  is  certain  ; 
that  I  do  not  wish  it.  I  should  have  liked  very  well 
to  have  gone  to  France  and  resided  there  a  year ; 
but  to  think  of  going  to  England  in  a  public  charac 
ter,  and  engaging,  at  my  time  of  life,  in  scenes  quite 
new,  attended  with  dissipation,  parade,  and  nonsense, 
—  I  am  sure  I  should  make  an  awkward  figure.  The 
retired  domestic  circle,  "  the  feast  of  reason  and  the 
flow  of  soul,"  are  my  ideas  of  happiness,  and  my  most 
ardent  wish  is  to  have  you  return  and  become  master 
of  the  feast.  My  health  is  infirm.  I  am  still  subject 
to  a  severe  nervous  pain  in  my  head,  and  fatigue  of 
any  kind  will  produce  it.  Neither  of  us  appears  to 
be  built  for  duration.  Would  to  Heaven,  the  few 
remaining  days  allotted  us  might  be  enjoyed  to 
gether.  It  has  been  my  misfortune,  that  I  could  not 
attend  to  your  health,  watch  for  your  repose,  alle 
viate  your  hours  of  anxiety,  and  make  you  a  home 
wherever  you  resided.  More,  says  a  skilful  doctor, 
depends  upon  the  nurse  than  the  physician.  My 
determination  is  to  tarry  at1  home  this  winter ;  and,  if 
I  cannot  prevail  upon  you  to  return  to  me  in  the 
spring,  you  well  know  that  I  may  be  drawn  to  you, 
provided  there  is  any  stability  in  Congress.  One 
strong  tie,  which  held  me  here,  is  dissolved.  My 


188  LETTERS. 

dear  parent '  used  to  say,  "  You  must  never  go,  child, 
whilst  I  live."  It  is  far  from  being  my  inclination. 

Mr.  Thaxter  will  be  able  to  give  me,  when  he 
arrives,  the  best  intelligence  upon  the  subject.  I 
wrote  largely  to  you  last  week.  I  hope  this  letter  will 
go  by  a  French  brig. 

Adieu,  and  believe  me,  whether  present  or  absent, 
Most  affectionately  yours. 


TO  JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  20  November,  1783. 

THIS  evening,  as  I  was  sitting  with  only  your  sister 
by  my  side,  who  was  scribbling  to  some  of  her  cor 
respondents,  my  neighbour,  Field,  entered  with,  "  I 
have  a  letter  for  you,  Madam."  My  imagination  was 
wandering  to  Paris,  ruminating  upon  the  long,  long 
absence  of  my  dear  son  and  his  parent,  so  that  I  was 
rather  inattentive  to  what  he  said,  until  he  repeated, 
"  I  have  letters  for  you  from  abroad."  The  word 
"  abroad,"  roused  my  attention,  and  I  eagerly  seized 
the  letters,  the  handwriting  and  seal  of  which  gave 
me  hopes,  that  I  was  once  more  about  to  hear  from 
my  young  wanderer  ;  nor  was  I  disappointed. 

After  two  years'  silence,  and  a  journey  of  which 
I  can  scarcely  form  an  idea,  to  find  you  safely  re- 

1  The  death  of  the   Rev.   Mr.   Smith,  the  father  of  Mrs. 
Adarns,  took  place  not  long  before  the  date  of  this  letter. 


LETTERS.  189 

turned  to  your  parent,  to  hear  of  your  health  and  to 
see  your  improvements  !  You  cannot  know,  should 
I  describe  to  you,  the  feelings  of  a  parent.  Through 
your  father,  I  sometimes  heard  from  you,  but  one 
letter  only  ever  reached  me  after  you  arrived  in 
Russia.  Your  excuses,  however,  have  weight  and 
are  accepted  ;  but  you  must  give  them  further  ener 
gy  by  a  ready  attention  to  your  pen  in  future.  Four 
years  have  already  passed  away  since  you  left  your 
native  land  and  this  rural  cottage  ;  humble  indeed 
when  compared  to  the  palaces  you  have  visited,  and 
the  pomp  you  have  been  witness  to  ;  but  I  dare  say, 
you  have  not  been  so  inattentive  an  observer  as  to 
suppose,  that  sweet  peace  and  contentment  cannot 
inhabit  the  lowly  roof  and  bless  the  tranquil  inhab 
itants,  equally  guarded  and  protected  in  person  and 
property  in  this  happy  country  as  those  who  reside 
in  the  most  elegant  and  costly  dwellings.  If  you 
live  to  return,  I  can  form  to  myself  an  idea  of  the 
pleasure  you  will  take  in  treading  over  the  ground 
and  visiting  every  place  your  early  years  were  ac 
customed  wantonly  to  gambol  in  ;  even  the  rocky 
common  and  lowly  whortleberry  bush  will  not  be 
without  their  beauties. 

My  anxieties  have  been  and  still  are  great,  lest 
the  numerous  temptations  and  snares  of  vice  should 
vitiate  your  early  habits  of  virtue,  and  destroy  those 
principles,  which  you  are  now  capable  of  reasoning 
upon,  and  discerning  the  beauty  and  utility  of,  as  the 
only  rational  surce  of  happiness  here,  or  foundation 
of  felicity  hereafter.  Placed  as  we  are  in  a  transi- 


190  LETTERS. 

tory  scene  of  probation,  drawing  nigher  and  still 
nigher  day  after  day  to  that  important  crisis  which 
must  introduce  us  into  a  new  system  of  things,  it 
ought  certainly  to  be  our  principal  concern  to  become 
qualified  for  our  expected  dignity. 

What  is  it,  that  affectionate  parents  require  of  their 
children,  for  all  their  care,  anxiety,  and  toil  on  their 
account  ?  Only  that  they  would  be  wise  and  virtuous, 
benevolent  and  kind. 

Ever  keep  in  mind,  my  son,  that  your  parents  are 
your  disinterested  friends,  and  that  if,  at  any  time, 
their  advice  militates  with  your  own  opinion  or  the 
advice  of  others,  you  ought  always  to  be  diffident  of 
your  own  judgment ;  because  you  may  rest  assured, 
that  their  opinion  is  founded  on  experience  and  long 
observation,  and  that  they  would  not  direct  you  but 
to  promote  your  happiness.  Be  thankful  to  a  kind 
Providence,  who  has  hitherto  preserved  the  lives  of 
your  parents,  the  natural  guardians  of  your  youthful 
years.  With  gratitude  I  look  up  to  Heaven,  blessing 
the  hand  which  continued  to  me  my  dear  and  hon 
ored  parents  until  I  was  settled  in  life  ;  and,  though 
now  I  regret  the  loss  of  them,  and  daily  feel  the  want 
of  their  advice  and  assistance,  I  cannot  suffer  as  I 
should  have  done,  if  I  had  been  early  deprived  of 
them. 

You  will  doubtless  have  heard  of  the  death  of  your 
worthy  grandpapa  before  this  reaches  you.  He 
left  you  a  legacy  more  valuable  than  gold  or  silver ; 
he  left  you  his  blessing  and  his  prayers  that  you 
might  return  to  your  country  and  friends,  improved 


LETTERS. 


191 


in  knowledge  and  matured  in  virtue  ;  that  you  might 
become  a  useful  citizen,  a  guardian  of  the  laws, 
liberty,  and  religion  of  your  country,  as  your  father 
(he  was  pleased  to  say)  had  already  been.  Lay  this 
bequest  up  in  your  memory,  and  practise  upon  it  ; 
believe  me,  you  will  find  it  a  treasure  that  neither 
moth  nor  rust  can  devour. 

I  received  letters  from  your  father  last  evening, 
dated  in  Paris  the  10th  of  September,  informing  me 
of  the  necessity  of  his  continuance  abroad  this  win 
ter.  The  season  is  so  far  advanced  that  I  readily 
sacrifice  the  desire  of  seeing  him  to  his  safety  ;  a 
voyage  upon  this  coast  at  this  season  is  fraught  with 
dangers.  He  has  made  me  a  request,  that  I  dare 
not  comply  with  at  present.  No  husband,  no  son,  to 
accompany  me  upon  the  boisterous  ocean,  to  ani 
mate  my  courage  and  dispel  my  fears,  I  dare  not 
engage  with  so  formidable  a  combatant.  If  I  should 
find  your  father  fixed  in  the  spring,  and  determined 
to  continue  abroad  a  year  or  two  longer,  the  earnest 
desire  I  have  to  meet  him  and  my  dear  son  might 
overcome  the  reluctance  I  feel  at  the  idea  of  engag 
ing  in  a  new  scene,  and  the  love  I  have  for  domestic 
attachments  and  the  still  calm  of  life.  But  it  would 
be  more  agreeable  to  me  to  enjoy  all  my  friends  to 
gether  in  my  own  native  land  ;  from  those  who  have 
visited  foreign  climes  I  could  listen  with  pleasure  to 
the  narrative  of  their  adventures,  and  derive  satisfac 
tion  from  the  learned  detail,  content,  myself,  that 

"  The  little  learning  1  have  gained, 
Is  all  from  simple  nature  drained." 


192  LETTERS. 

I  have  a  desire  that  you  might  finish  your  educa 
tion  at  our  University,  and  I  see  no  chance  for  it 
unless  you  return  in  the  course  of  the  year.  Your 
cousin,  W.  Cranch,  expects  to  enter  next  July.  He 
would  be  happy  to  have  you  his  associate.  I  hope 
your  father  will  indulge  you  with  a  visit  to  England 
this  winter.  It  is  a  country  J  should  be  fond  of  your 
seeing.  Christianity,  which  teaches  us  to  forgive  our 
enemies,  prevents  me  from  enjoining  upon  you  a 
similar  vow  to  that  which  Hamilcar  obtained  from 
his  son  Hannibal,  but  I  know  not  how  to  think  of 
loving  those  haughty  islanders. 

Your  friends  send  you  their  affectionate  regards  ; 
and  I  enjoin  it  upon  you  'to  write  often  to  your 
ever  affectionate  mother, 

A.  ADAMS. 


TO  JOHN  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  18  December,  1783. 

MY    DEAREST    FRIEND, 

I  RETURNED  last  evening  from  Boston,  where  I  went 
at  the  kind  invitation  of  my  uncle  and  aunt,  to  cele 
brate  our  annual  festival.  Dr.  Cooper  being  dan 
gerously  sick,  I  went  to  hear  Mr.  Clark,  who  is 
settled  with  Dr.  Chauncy.  This  gentleman  gave  us 
an  animated,  elegant,  and  sensible  discourse,  from 
Isaiah,  55th  chapter,  and  12th  verse.  "  For  ye 


LETTERS.  193 

shall  go  out  with  joy,  and  be  led  forth  with  peace  ; 
the  mountains  and  the  hills  shall  break  forth  before 
you  into  singing,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  field  shall 
clap  their  hands." 

Whilst  he  ascribed  glory  and  praise  unto  the  Most 
High,  he  considered  the  worthy,  disinterested,  and 
undaunted  patriots  as  the  instruments  in  the  hand  of 
Providence  for  accomplishing  what  was  marvellous 
in  our  eyes.  He  recapitulated  the  dangers  they  had 
passed  through,  and  the  hazards  they  had  run  ;  the 
firmness  which  had,  in  a  particular  manner,  distin 
guished  some  characters,  not  only  early  to  engage 
in  so  dangerous  a  contest,  but,  in  spite  of  our  gloomy 
prospects,  to  persevere  even  unto  the  end,  until 
they  had  obtained  a  peace,  safe  and  honorable,  large 
as  our  desires,  and  much  beyond  our  expectations. 

How  did  my  heart  dilate  with  pleasure,  when,  as 
each  event  was  particularized,  I  could  trace  my 
friend  as  a  principal  in  them ;  could  say  it  was  he 
who  was  one  of  the  first  in  joining  the  band  of 
patriots,  who  formed  our  first  national  council ;  it 
was  he,  who,  though  happy  in  his  domestic  attach 
ments,  left  his  wife,  his  children,  then  but  infants, 
even  surrounded  with  the  horrors  of  war,  terrified 
and  distressed,  the  week  before  the  memorable  19th 
of  April,  —  left  them  to  the  protection  of  that  Provi 
dence  which  has  never  forsaken  them,  and  joined 
himself  undismayed  to  that  respectable  body,  of 
which  he  was  a  member.  Trace  his  conduct  through 
every  period,  you  will  find  him  the  same  undaunted 
character,  encountering  the  dangers  of  the  ocean, 

VOL.  i.  13 


194  LETTERS. 

risking  captivity  and  a  dungeon  ;  contending  with 
wickedness  in  high  places  ;  jeoparding  his  life,  en 
dangered  by  the  intrigues,  revenge,  and  malice  of  a 
potent,  though  defeated  nation.  These  are  not  the 
mere  eulogiums  of  conjugal  affection,  but  certain 
facts  and  solid  truths.  My  anxieties,  my  distresses, 
at  every  period,  bear  witness  to  them ;  though  now, 
by  a  series  of  prosperous  events,  the  recollection  is 
more  sweet  than  painful. 

Whilst  I  was  in  town,  Mr.  Dana  arrived  very 
unexpectedly  ;  for  I  had  not  received  your  letters  by 
Mr.  Thaxtcr.  My  uncle  fortunately  discovered  him 
as  he  came  up  State  Street,  and  instantly  engaged 
him  to  dine  with  him,  acquainting  him  that  I  was  in 
town  and  at  his  house.  The  news  soon  reached  my 
ears;  "Mr.  Dana  arrived,"  —  "Mr.  Dana  arrived," 
—  from  every  person  you  saw  ;  but  how  was  I  affect 
ed  ?  The  tears  involuntarily  flowed  from  my  eyes. 
Though  God  is  my  witness,  I  envied  not  the  felicity 
of  others,  yet  my  heart  swelled  with  grief;  and 
the  idea  that  I,  I  only,  was  left  alone,  recalled  all 
the  tender  scenes  of  separation,  and  overcame  all 
my  fortitude.  I  retired,  and  reasoned  myself  into 
composure  sufficient  to  see  him  without  a  childish 
emotion. 

But,  O!  my  dearest  friend,  what  shall  I  say  to 
you  in  reply  to  your  pressing  invitation.  I  have 
already  written  to  you  in  answer  to  your  letters, 
which  were  dated  September  10th,  and  reached  me 
a  month  before  those  by  Mr.  Thaxter.  I  related  to 
you  all  my  fears  respecting  a  winter's  voyage.  My 


LETTERS.  195 

friends  are  all  against  it,  and  Mr.  Gerry,  as  you  will 
see  by  the  copy  of  his  letter  enclosed,  has  given  his 
opinion  upon  well  grounded  reasons.  If  I  should 
leave  my  affairs  in  the  hands  of  my  friends,  there 
would  be  much  to  think  of  and  much  to  do,  to  place 
them  in  that  method  and  order  I  would  wish  to  leave 
them  in.  Theory  and  practice  are  two  very  different 
things,  and  the  object  is  magnified  as  I  approach 
nearer  to  it.  I  think  if  you  were  abroad  in  a  private 
character,  and  necessitated  to  continue  there,  I  should 
not  hesitate  so  much  at  coming  to  you  ;  but  a  mere 
American  as  I  am,  unacquainted  with  the  etiquette 
of  courts,  taught  to  say  the  thing  I  mean,  and  to 
wear  my  heart  in  my  countenance,  I  am  sure  I 
should  make  an  awkward  figure  ;  and  then  it  would 
mortify  my  pride,  if  I  should  be  thought  to  disgrace 
you.  Yet,  strip  royalty  of  its  pomp  and  power,  and 
what  are  its  votaries  more  than  their  fellow  worms  ? 

I  have  so  little  of  the  ape  about  me,  that  I  have 
refused  every  public  invitation  to  figure  in  the  gay 
world,  and  sequestered  myself  in  this  humble  cot 
tage,  content  with  rural  life  and  my  domestic  em 
ployment,  in  the  midst  of  which  I  have  sometimes 
smiled  upon  recollecting  that  I  had  the  honor  of 
being  allied  to  an  ambassador. 

Adieu. 


196  LETTERS. 


TO  JOHN  QTJINCY  ADAMS. 

Braintree,  26  December,  1783. 

MY    DEAR   SON, 

YOUR  letters  by  Mr.  Thaxter,  I  received,  and  was 
not  a  little  pleased  with  them.  If  you  do  not  write 
with  the  precision  of  a  Robertson,  nor  the  elegance 
of  a  Voltaire,  it  is  evident  you  have  profited  by  the 
perusal  of  them.  The  account  of  your  northern 
journey,  and  your  observation  upon  the  Russian  gov 
ernment,  would  do  credit  to  an  older  pen. 

The  early  age  at  which  you  went  abroad  gave 
you  not  an  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
your  own  country.  Yet  the  revolution,  in  which  we 
were  engaged,  held  it  up  in  so  striking  and  impor 
tant  a  light,  that  you  could  not  avoid  being  in  some 
measure  irradiated  with  the  view.  The  characters 
with  which  you  were  connected,  and  the  conversa 
tion  you  continually  heard,  must  have  impressed 
your  mind  with  a  sense  of  the  laws,  the  liberties, 
and  the  glorious  privileges,  which  distinguish  the  free, 
sovereign,  independent  States  of  America. 

Compare  them  with  the  vassalage  of  the  Russian 
government  you  have  described,  and  say,  were 
this  highly  favored  land  barren  as  the  mountains  of 
Switzerland,  and  covered  ten  months  in  the  year 
with  snow,  would  she  not  have  the  advantage  even 
of  Italy,  with  her  orange  groves,  her  breathing 
statues,  and  her  melting  strains  of  music  ?  or  of 


LETTERS.  197 

Spain,  with  her  treasures  from  Mexico  and  Peru  ?  not 
one  of  which  can  boast  that  first  of  blessings,  the 
glory  of  human  najure,  the  inestimable  privilege  of 
sitting  down  under  their  vines  and  fig-trees,  enjoying 
in  peace  and  security  whatever  Heaven  has  lent 
them,  having  none  to  make  them  afraid. 

Let  your  observations  and  comparisons  produce  in 
your  mind  an  abhorrence  of  domination  and  power, 
the  parent  of  slavery,  ignorance,  and  barbarism, 
which  places  man  upon  a  level  with  his  fellow 
tenants  of  the  woods  ; 

"  A  day,  an  hour,  of  virtuous  liberty 
Is  worth  a  whole  eternity  of  bondage." 

You  have  seen  power  in  its  various  forms,  —  a 
benign  deity,  when  exercised  in  the  suppression  of 
fraud,  injustice,  and  tyranny,  but  a  demon,  when 
united  with  unbounded  ambition,  —  a  wide-wasting 
fury,  who  has  destroyed  her  thousands.  Not  an 
age  of  the  world  but  has  produced  characters,  to 
which  whole  human  hecatombs  have  been  sacri 
ficed. 

What  is  the  history  of  mighty  kingdoms  and  na 
tions,  but  a  detail  of  the  ravages  and  cruelties  of  the 
powerful  over  the  weak  ?  Yet  it  is  instructive  to 
trace  the  various  causes,  which  produced  the  strength 
of  one  nation,  and  the  decline  and  weakness  of 
another ;  to  learn  by  what  arts  one  man  has  been 
able  to  subjugate  millions  of  his  fellow  creatures, 
the  motives  which  have  put  him  upon  action,  and 
the  causes  of  his  success  ;  —  sometimes  driven  by 


198  LETTERS. 

ambition  and  a  lust  of  power  ;  at  other  times,  swal 
lowed  up  by  religious  enthusiasm,  blind  bigotry,  and 
ignorant  zeal ;  sometimes  enervated  with  luxury  and 
debauched  by  pleasure,  until  the  most  powerful  na 
tions  have  become  a  prey  and  been  subdued  by 
these  Sirens,  when  neither  the  number  of  their  ene 
mies,  nor  the  prowess  of  their  arms,  could  conquer 
them.  History  informs  us  that  the  Assyrian  empire 
sunk  under  the  arms  of  Cyrus,  with  his  poor  but 
hardy  Persians.  The  extensive  and  opulent  empire 
of  Persia  fell  an  easy  prey  to  Alexander  and  a  hand 
ful  of  Macedonians ;  and  the  Macedonian  empire, 
when  enervated  by  the  luxury  of  Asia,  was  com 
pelled  to  receive  the  yoke  of  the  victorious  Romans. 
Yet  even  this  mistress  of  the  world,  as  she  is  proudly 
styled,  in  her  turn  defaced  her  glory,  tarnished  her 
victories,  and  became  a  prey  to  luxury,  ambition, 
faction,  pride,  revenge,  and  avarice,  so  that  Jugur- 
tha,  after  having  purchased  an  acquittance  for  the 
blackest  of  crimes,  breaks  out  into  an  exclamation, 
"  O  city,  ready  for  sale,  if  a  buyer  rich  enough  can 
be  found  !  " 

The  history  of  your  own  country  and  the  late 
revolution  are  striking  and  recent  instances  of  the 
mighty  things  achieved  by  a  brave,  enlightened,  and 
hardy  people,  determined  to  be  free ;  the  very  yeo 
manry  of  which,  in  many  instances,  have  shown 
themselves  superior  to  corruption,  as  Britain  well 
knows,  on  more  occasions  than  the  loss  of  her 
Andre.  Glory,  my  son,  in  a  country  which  has 
given  birth  to  characters,  both  in  the  civil  and  mili- 


LETTERS.  199 

tary  departments,  which  may  vie  with  the  wisdom 
and  valor  of  antiquity.  As  an  immediate  descendant 
of  one  of  those  characters,  may  you  be  led  to  an 
imitation  of  that  disinterested  patriotism  and  that 
noble  love  of  your  country,  which  will  teach  you  to 
despise  wealth,  titles,  pomp,  and  equipage,  as  mere 
external  advantages,  which  cannot  add  to  the  inter 
nal  excellence  of  your  mind,  or  compensate  for  the 
want  of  integrity  and  virtue. 

May  your  mind  be  thoroughly  impressed  with  the 
absolute  necessity  of  universal  virtue  and  goodness, 
as  the  only  sure  road  to  happiness,  and  may  you 
walk  therein  with  undeviating  steps,  —  is  the  sincere 
and  most  affectionate  wish  of 

Your  mother, 

A.  ADAMS. 


END    OF    VOL.    I. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

RENEWALS  ONLY— TEL.  NO.  642-3405 
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General  Library 

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